Men of Holsum College 4
Player and the Prude
Brooks Price loves a challenge. So when a frenemy dares him to
sleep with a dorky, over-tall film major, Brooks amps up his
considerable charm.
Matt Porter can’t guess why Brooks is flirting with him. Raised
religious, Matt doesn’t believe in sex before relationships.
Unfortunately, Brooks is all about sex, and Matt doubts Brooks is
interested in anything else.
Slowly, Brooks chips away at Matt’s armor—taking him on dates,
asking for kisses, holding hands—baby steps, none of which Matt
can resist or refuse. However, when Brooks pushes too far, Matt
freaks out.
Despite his stoic exterior, Matt’s painfully conflicted over his
sexuality—scared of his darker desires, worried about hurting
Brooks. The pair explores boundaries, but when things turn rough
and Matt unleashes his inner wants, he doesn’t know if he can
overcome his shame about sex in order to be with the man he’s
growing to love.
Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Contemporary
Length: 35,376 words
PLAYER AND THE PRUDE
Men of Holsum College 4
Daisy Harris
EROTIC ROMANCE
MANLOVE
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ManLove
PLAYER AND THE PRUDE
Copyright © 2012 by Daisy Harris
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-979-8
First E-book Publication: August 2012
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be
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express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance
to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
If you have purchased this copy of Player and the Prude by Daisy
Harris from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you.
Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
Regarding E-book Piracy
This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or
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The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying
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This is Daisy Harris’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect
Ms. Harris’s right to earn a living from her work.
Amanda Hilton, Publisher
DEDICATION
To Brien Michaels and Annabeth Albert—you guys are the wind
beneath my flogger.
And to my loving family—you put up with me and support me in
every way I could imagine. Sorry about all the take-out!
PLAYER AND THE PRUDE
Men of Holsum College 4
DAISY HARRIS
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Brooks checked out the overseer’s ass. It wasn’t half bad—the
part of it Brooks could see under the guy’s worn-out green-and-brown
sweater. Unfortunately, the dude overseeing the lacrosse team’s
community service had all the style and personality of a wet mop.
Messy, dishwater-blond hair, mud-colored eyes. Mentally, Brooks
removed the dude’s ugly outfit and imagined him on all fours on
Brooks’s bed. Preferably with a bag over his face.
“The fuck are you doing, Price?” Hunter Ford snapped his fingers
in front of Brooks’s face, drawing Brooks’s attention back to the cans
they were piling. “We’re never getting out of this hellhole if you keep
mixing up beans and tomatoes.” Though Hunter was only a
sophomore, he was one of the captains of the lacrosse team. Between
his position on the team and his considerable family connections,
Hunter was one of the few people Brooks let push him around.
“Whatever. Who the fuck eats this shit anyway?” Brooks read the
label on the can he was holding and winced. Beans and franks? He
didn’t think such a thing existed outside documentaries about the
Great Depression.
Someone scoffed behind him, and Brooks knew it was the
overseer guy. Jesus, just because the dude did work-study in the
Player and the Prude
9
kitchens, Brooks didn’t see why he thought he could act like Brooks
and Hunter’s boss.
“Y’know, there are some people in the world who don’t know
where their next meal is coming from,” the overseer said.
Brooks turned slowly, pausing to take in the guy’s bruised Nike
sneakers, his baggy clothes, and the dingy mess of his hair. The guy
had to be six and a half feet tall, but Brooks was in too crappy of a
mood to take the guy’s shit. “Dude, I don’t know what your problem
is, but we’re doing the job, okay? Keep your preachy shit to yourself.”
The guy’s eyes widened like he was startled, but Brooks didn’t
bother waiting for him to stammer out some kind of comeback.
Instead, he turned back to the cans and boxes. He smiled when he
heard how Hunter was snickering.
Footsteps slapped the floor as the enormous freak walked away.
“I think he’s gonna go cry into his huge pillow.” Hunter stood
closer than Brooks liked. He had been doing that a lot lately. They
had only hooked up a few times, but Brooks was getting the feeling
Hunter thought they had something more going on than they did.
Brooks dragged packing tape over the top of a box. The team may
have been required to put in ten hours of community service to fulfill
Holsum College’s Players as Philanthropists program, but that didn’t
mean they had to like it. Or pretend to be nice. “I hate that holier-
than-thou bullshit.” Brooks peeked over his shoulder at the guy’s ass
again. He was developing a twisted fascination with it—weird, since
otherwise, he didn’t like the guy.
He had nice shoulders, too, broader than Brooks had noticed
before.
“For someone who hates to be preached at, you’re certainly
checking him out enough.”
Matt! That was the overseer’s name. Matt Porter. The name had
been on the tip of Brooks’s tongue for an hour, like a niggling itch he
couldn’t reach to scratch. Matt lived with a guy Brooks used to screw
around with on occasion…Fuck. Now Brooks was going to spend the
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Daisy Harris
remaining hours of his shift trying to remember what the other guy’s
name was. “Might as well look. I got nothing else to do. Not like
stacking…” Brooks read another can’s label. “Not like boxing pearl
onions requires all my mental energy.”
Hunter lifted his box off the table and stacked it with the rest. “If
you’re really bored, you should try getting with him.” Typical
Hunter—he alternated between trying to get closer to Brooks and
daring Brooks to fuck other guys.
The dude was on such a power trip.
Brooks screwed up his face with as much indignation as he could
muster. Yeah, the guy, Matt, was big—and Brooks had sort of
wondered lately what it might be like to be with a guy bigger than
him, who might have the strength to hold him down, or at least put up
a fight while Brooks held him down.
But even if the overseer had that kind of size, he carried his head
tucked back and his shoulders rolled forward. Like he was scared of
his own shadow. Plus, there was the dorkishness factor. “Ew. Have
you seen his sweater?”
“You don’t have to fuck his clothes.” Hunter wiped his eyes, as if
the thought of someone having sex with Matt was so funny it made
him cry.
“Yeah, but I’d remember his clothes.” Brooks grinned wickedly.
“And I wouldn’t be able to get them out of my mind the whole time I
was railing him.” To Brooks’s surprise, he enjoyed the mental image
of pounding into Matt, maybe even while he was wearing the horrible
sweater and the white-collared shirt underneath. Kinky.
“I’ll give you five hundred bucks if you can do it.” Hunter stopped
packing, and turned around to stare at Matt. Unlike Brooks, Hunter
loved the idea of getting with guys who were smaller and weaker.
Matt Porter didn’t fit that bill physically, but his personality fit it in
spades. Hunter leaned back against the table. “A thousand if you’re
his first.”
Player and the Prude
11
Brooks let out a scoff. He didn’t need the money, but he was
tempted—if nothing else, he wanted to show Hunter up. Brooks had
voted to make Hunter captain of the lacrosse team. He’d swallowed
on the occasions when they’d been drunk enough to hook up, and had
even put up with Hunter’s weird domination shit.
College was all about networking, and there were a lot of things
Brooks would do to keep on the in with the son of a senator, but he
was getting a little sick of Hunter’s fucking attitude. “You better save
up, man. Because I can so tap that.” Brooks looked at the way Matt
stood and how his pants rode high on his ankles. “And I’m sure I’ll be
his first.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hunter resumed his packing. “I’d like to see you
try.”
“Watch and learn, my friend.” Brooks slapped Hunter’s shoulder.
He was one of the biggest studs in school and knew he’d have no
trouble bagging the loser in the khakis. Whether it would be any fun
was a whole different matter.
The kitchens smelled like wilting produce and bleach. Long metal
tables filled the giant room, with three different sports teams working
off their community service for the food drive. Brooks wove through
the piles of boxes and around a few girls from the softball team.
“Hey.” Brooks jogged up behind Matt. He slid his gaze up the guy’s
torso. Yeah, under his clothes, Matt probably had a decent body,
though Brooks couldn’t remember ever seeing him in the gym.
Matt didn’t turn around. “Yeah?” He hauled open the door to the
giant walk-in refrigerator and stepped inside, releasing a smelly waft
of cabbage. “What do you need now?”
Brooks hadn’t really thought about what he was going to say, so
he scanned the shelves, looking for inspiration. It was fucking
freezing in the walk-in, and he rubbed his bare arms, cursing that he’d
left his sweatshirt at his workstation. “Where can I get some more
masking tape?” The question made him sound like an idiot, since he’d
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Daisy Harris
asked the same thing only a half hour ago, but he hoped Matt
wouldn’t remember.
“Brooks, you know perfectly well I said the packing supplies were
on the tables out in the cafeteria.” Matt sounded bored and a little
disgusted. He checked things off on his clipboard as he looked at the
shelves.
“You know my name?” Brooks blurted. He wasn’t sure why he
was surprised, but he was.
“Of course I know your name.” No expression, not even an eye
roll. Matt just kept counting boxes of frozen vegetables, taking notes
on his inventory sheet. “You’ve been to my house, for Pete’s sake.”
“Well, yeah.” Brooks recovered. “But we’ve never been
introduced.” He held out his hand.
Matt rotated slowly, and then stared down at Brooks’s hand like it
was a piece of last week’s salad. His gaze was so steady Brooks
almost took a step backward. “Yeah, we have. At an Eta Xi party my
freshman year, and again when we were in the same history class,
once at homecoming, then again when you came to the house to see
Gabe.”
“Gabe!” Brooks felt tension roll off his shoulders, that sense of
relief when one remembered the word he’d forgotten. “God, thanks
for reminding me. That name’s been driving me nuts.”
Matt blinked, and though his face was as impassive as usual,
Brooks had the feeling that he was fighting a sneer.
“What?”
“You forgot Gabe’s name?” Before Brooks could answer, Matt
turned back to his work. “Forget it. Clearly, you didn’t give a hoot
about him.” He sounded…maybe petulant.
“I don’t think Gabe gave a hoot about me, either.” He wasn’t
being self-deprecating. Brooks and Gabe had hooked up only a couple
times, in the most casual of circumstances. Much like most of
Brooks’s hookups. Plus, Gabe was sweet and nice—totally not
Brooks’s type.
Player and the Prude
13
“Fine.” Matt closed his eyes. “You’re right. Gabe didn’t care. But
still—”
“Were you into Gabe or something?” Sheesh. He didn’t know why
Matt gave a shit one way or another. More than that, he didn’t know
why it bugged him that Matt did.
“No. Let’s just drop it.” Matt grabbed a box of something off the
shelves, read the label, and frowned.
“But you are gay, though, right?”
Matt replaced the item and then checked the label on the next one.
“That’s a personal question to ask someone you just met, don’t you
think?”
Brooks tilted his head coyly. “You said we’ve known each other
for years.” Anyway, Brooks didn’t think it was inappropriate to ask a
guy if he was gay, and he was getting chilled and annoyed. If Matt
didn’t bat for his team, the bet with Hunter was off.
“Fine, yes.” Matt spun around, checking another shelf.
“Yes, we’ve known each other for years?” The second after
Brooks asked, he realized Matt had been answering a different
question. He rubbed his arms in annoyance. “Oh.”
Matt pushed a bunch of boxes down to the far end of the shelf.
Then he moved a huge container in front of them to block them from
sight.
“What are you doing?” Brooks stepped around Matt, making sure
to rub up against him. Yeah, that ass felt as good as it looked. Matt’s
back was hard and strong. Brooks read the labels of the boxes on the
shelf. He snickered. “What do you have against creamed corn?”
Matt’s lip twitched at the corner, though it dropped back into
place right away. “I really don’t like the stuff.” He shrugged, going
back to his inventory, but Brooks wasn’t going to let him off so easy.
The crack in Matt’s mundane, superior armor was too perfect for
Brooks not to wedge in a spike.
“So, you’re going to make sure no one else gets to eat it, either?
What, you’re the judge, jury, and executioner of frozen foods?” He
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Daisy Harris
tried to sound offended more than amused, but wasn’t sure he’d
managed it.
With a huff, Matt stepped around Brooks to where the container—
Brooks thought it was mayonnaise—blocked sight of the boxes. He
shoved Brooks in the process, but Brooks didn’t make it easy for Matt
to get past. He pushed back a little, forcing Matt to muscle through. In
the process, Brooks got a feel for Matt’s bulk and weight. He was
solid, and smelled pretty good.
“Are you happy now?” Matt pulled the mayonnaise off the shelf
and put it on the other side, clearing the way for someone to find the
offending corn. He raised his eyebrows, daring Brooks to laugh.
Brooks pinched his lips together to stop the snicker from escaping.
When he was sure he could talk without chuckling, he said, “Yes. I
happen to like creamed corn. So, yes, I am happy.”
Matt slapped his clipboard down on a shelf and set his pen on top
of it. “Get out, Brooks.”
“Why?” He was actually freezing his balls off, but Brooks wanted
to needle Matt further.
“Because…” Matt closed his eyes again, as if he were trying to
quell his temper. The weird thing was he didn’t seem to have any
temper to speak of. The guy barely showed any emotions at all.
“You’re annoying me.”
“Or maybe I’m turning you on.” Brooks took a step forward,
lowering his eyes to a half-lidded gaze in invitation. He could get off
in a refrigerator if he had to, and man, would that wipe the smirk off
Hunter’s face.
Matt pushed past him again, adding a hint of a shove that—
surprisingly—kind of turned Brooks on. He opened the door, and
warmth rushed in from the kitchen. When Matt stepped outside, he
muttered, “Not hardly.”
Reflexively, Brooks rubbed his arms. He started to follow, but
then saw Gabe approaching Matt from the other direction. It’s not like
Brooks and Gabe were enemies or anything, but past hookups always
Player and the Prude
15
threw Brooks off his game. “Whatever you say, Matt.” He used
Matt’s name to solidify it in his mind. If he was going to make this
thing happen, he couldn’t forget it again. When Matt mumbled
something in reply, Brooks asked, “See you later, right?” He didn’t
wait for an answer, but strutted back over to Hunter, hoping that Matt
was watching him leave.
Hunter looked like he was trying not to bust up laughing. “Man.”
He set down his handfuls of cans. “He so just blew you off.” Hunter
smirked, the gleam in his eyes showing how much he enjoyed making
Brooks fuck up.
Brooks scowled as he grabbed a couple handfuls of cans. He
didn’t mind a good check on the lacrosse field, and he dished them
out as often as received them. But it bugged him the way Hunter was
always trying to psyche him out, or pull some kind of upper hand.
Brooks would take a punch over a sneer any day of the week.
“He did not.” Brooks snatched up the containers Hunter was
sorting and dropped them in his own box. When he glanced in Matt’s
direction, Matt was engrossed in a conversation with Gabe and wasn’t
paying Brooks any attention at all.
* * * *
“What was his deal?” Gabe asked. “He looked kinda smitten.
What did you say to him?”
Matt pondered Gabe’s question, not sure how to describe what
had happened. One second, he was doing his job, and the next,
Brooks Price, of all people, was flirting with him. At least, Matt
assumed he was flirting. He didn’t really have enough experience to
know for sure. “I didn’t say anything.” He tried to gather some kernel
of their conversation and make it make sense. “I think he introduced
himself.”
Gabe snorted. “Fucking Brooks, man. He’s a trip.”
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Daisy Harris
“He’s a jerk, is what.” Matt led Gabe over to a pile of boxes set
aside for the assisted living facility where Gabe volunteered.
Gabe jangled the keys to the rented truck, clearly excited about
having a chance to drive. Like Matt, Gabe didn’t have a car. He tilted
the dolly full of boxes and started wheeling it out to the loading dock.
“Oh, Brooks’s not so bad. A little self-involved, maybe.”
“A little?” Matt lifted a box off the pile and set it in the back of
the truck. Then he picked up another. The cool spring air felt amazing
after the stifling warmth of the kitchens. “He’s selfish, mean, a total
whore…” Matt wasn’t going to mention how Brooks always got him
hard as a pike.
It wasn’t just the way the guy looked, either. Something about
how Brooks waved that tight ass of his at every damn guy on campus
made Matt so angry he wanted to punch something—and so horny he
could barely breathe. “I could never see dating a guy like…” Matt
trailed off when he saw the expression on Gabe’s face.
“Didn’t you have a thing for Brooks when you first got to
school?”
“No.” Matt answered a little too fast. He hated admitting to
himself how he’d felt about Brooks Price, much less telling his
housemate. His housemate who’d probably slept with the guy. “I
mean, I remember him from that year. It was hard not to.” Brooks had
seemed superhuman back then—blindingly white teeth, highlighted
hair, a body to die for. He’d gotten blown by every gay kid in Matt’s
freshman class, and some who weren’t even out yet. Well, every gay
kid but Matt.
“Really?” Gabe looked skeptical. “Because you have a lot of
opinions about him for someone who doesn’t care.”
Matt hauled a few more boxes as an excuse to get out of talking,
but he knew Gabe wasn’t going to let it go. Once his housemate got
his hands on some perceived issue, he clung like a baby monkey to its
mother’s fur.
“Are you sure you don’t want to give him a try?” Gabe asked.
Player and the Prude
17
“He’s probably just messing with me anyway.”
Brooks was like one of those freaky-looking orchids from the rain
forest. They were attractive, but spooky. Too beautiful to be real.
“Well, it’s entirely possible he’s just trying to sleep with you, but
would that be so bad?”
Matt fumbled the box he’d been carrying and dropped to an
awkward crouch to stop it from hitting the pavement. “What?”
Gabe stared at Matt as if he felt sorry for him. “Sex? The
horizontal bone dance? I’m not saying Brooks wants to be your
boyfriend, but he’s not bad in bed.”
Matt struggled not to picture his roommate in a compromising
position with Brooks. It was way too easy to imagine Brooks Price
having sex. The guy looked built for it, as if he were on the verge of
ripping his clothes off any second. Ripping his clothes off and
grabbing his ankles. “Oh, crap,” Matt cursed himself. He’d made the
mistake of letting his brain go to the bad place and now his dick was
expanding at an awkward angle in his pants. He sat on the truck’s
back bumper, hiding his erection from Gabe’s too-observant sight.
“It’s fine to be attracted to Brooks. He’s a good-looking guy. And
it’s perfectly normal to—”
“You know how I feel about this.” Matt crossed one leg over the
other, giving his hard-on space. He thought about baseball and female
gym teachers and creamed corn, trying to get his dick to behave.
Unfortunately, the last one only made the throbbing worse.
“You’d find a boyfriend a lot faster if you gave guys a chance.”
Most guys on campus thought sex was no big deal, but Matt
hadn’t been raised that way. Actually, he’d been raised to think that
men like him were going to hell and needed to be “saved” from their
abhorrent thoughts. Sure, he’d gotten over believing that by the end of
his first semester at college. However, Matt couldn’t shake the feeling
that if he was going to get physical with someone, it should be in the
confines of a relationship.
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Daisy Harris
Of course, a relationship was darn hard to get into when everyone
you knew had sex first and dated later.
“I do give guys a chance.” Lying to Gabe made Matt’s penis
deflate enough so he felt comfortable standing. He grabbed a box that
Gabe was having trouble lifting and set it in the truck.
“Like hell you do.” Gabe hopped into the bed of the pickup and
shoved piles to the back. “Who was the last guy you flirted with?”
Matt rolled the dolly back into the kitchen, trying to escape
Gabe’s questioning. Maybe in a busy room, Gabe would take the hint
and leave him alone. He had perfectly good reasons to avoid sex,
though he wasn’t going to outline them for his housemate. Out of the
corner of his mouth, Matt said, “I flirt.”
“Really? Like with who?” Gabe turned sideways to get between
several towers of boxes.
“Lots of people.” Matt tried to sound less defensive than he felt. It
wasn’t his fault college was a cesspool of depravity.
No. That was his mom talking. Matt knew plenty of decent guys—
and girls—in college, and he tried really hard not to judge them based
on how many people they slept with. But Brooks was another issue
altogether. The guy was like a public toilet—everyone had sat on him
at some point. Plus, Brooks wasn’t a very nice person.
Damn. His dick was getting hard again.
“How about this…” Gabe grabbed the dolly out of Matt’s hands.
He loaded it, tilted it an angle, and rolled it toward the exit.
“Do I even want to hear it?” Matt furtively adjusted himself into a
more comfortable position as they walked.
“Probably not.” Gabe turned to back through the door. He kicked
the rubber bumper behind him, trying to get more space, until Matt
reached over Gabe’s head and held the door open. “I think you should
give him a shot.”
Matt glanced back into the kitchens, spying Brooks talking to his
obnoxious friend. “I don’t even think he’s interested.”
Player and the Prude
19
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Okay, well, if he seems interested—like he
asks you to meet him at a party or something—you say yes.” He
pulled up the dolly in front of the truck.
“You want me to have sex with him?” Matt hauled a couple boxes
into the truck bed. “I’m not going to do that.” He couldn’t be another
notch in Brooks Price’s bedpost. Just—no.
“Dude, no one’s going to make you have sex with him. Just hang
out, flirt.” Gabe grabbed a box out of Matt’s arms and set it on the
tailgate. He gave Matt a snarky look. “If there’s anyone on campus
you can practice flirting with, it’s Brooks. He’s a master.”
Matt felt his face heating, and—to his horror—his body
tightening. “Yeah, but if I flirt with him, he’ll think I want to have
sex.”
“And you’re scared he’s gonna force himself on you?” Gabe
smirked.
“Duh, no.” Matt wasn’t worried about that. Brooks was buff, but
Matt had five inches of height on the guy. If anything, Matt was
scared of hurting him.
Anyway, Brooks didn’t need to force himself on anyone. The guy
was almost painfully attractive.
“It would do you good to hang out with someone who’s
interested.”
Matt wasn’t going to argue again how Brooks probably wasn’t
interested. “I’m not going to have sex with him.” Matt said it as much
to himself as he did to Gabe. He could resist temptation, but it would
be more of a challenge if temptation waved itself right under his nose.
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Daisy Harris
Chapter Two
Matt ducked around one of the library’s stacks before Brooks
could see him. It wasn’t easy to hide when you were almost six and a
half feet tall, but Matt had been doing his best for the past few days.
Everywhere he’d gone since Sunday in the kitchens, Brooks was
hanging out, or studying, or just plain loitering. If Matt didn’t know
better, he would have thought Brooks was going out of his way to run
into him.
He took a fortifying breath and stepped away from the wall of
books. There was no avoiding it—he needed to check out a wide-
angle lens for the project he was shooting, and all loans from the film
department had to go through the main library. If he ran into Brooks,
so be it.
The library had three levels, with the basement housing esoteric
periodicals no one ever looked at besides the grad students, and the
second floor open in the center and curving around in a semicircle
above the main floor. Matt faced the room full of tables and the walls
pockmarked with indented cubbies, trying to calculate the best way to
get from point A to point B without being noticed. Deciding on speed
over planning, he set off walking. Matt kept his eyes trained straight
ahead on the checkout desk, hoping that if he didn’t look Brooks’s
direction, Brooks wouldn’t notice he was there.
He got halfway across the room without being detected, but Matt
felt it the moment Brooks looked up from his books. Like a prey
animal, he stopped in place—as if Brooks wouldn’t see him as long as
he stayed still.
Player and the Prude
21
But Matt had no such luck, because Brooks stood from his table
and wound through the room toward him, raising a hand in greeting.
When Brooks got close enough he didn’t have to shout, he said, “Hi,
Matt.”
“Hello.” Matt struggled not to slouch or start backing away.
“What’s up?” Brooks flashed him a smile, and it seemed like he
was even better looking than normal. His hair was short, but gelled to
perfection. He had these eyes that were so blue they didn’t seem real.
The odd thing was Brooks never did anything to draw attention to
his eyes, and Matt was pretty sure he would have if he realized how
attractive they were. Brooks always wore tight clothes, highlighting
every inch of his muscular body. But half the time, he covered his
best asset with sunglasses.
Like right then, when Brooks pulled a pair out of his pocket. He
slid them onto his face, hiding his eyes, and leaned casually on a
nearby table.
Matt wanted to snatch those glasses off and crush them under his
heel. He fought back the image before it could get him hard. “Picking
up a lens for my semester project.” What on earth else would Brooks
think he was doing in the library? Though, Matt supposed, he could
have been checking out a book instead.
“For a film class?”
Matt backed up a step, and his thigh hit the table behind him. The
girl working there scowled up at him, rearranging her papers.
“Cinematography. I’m a film major.”
“Cool.” Brooks watched him, waiting, as if he expected Matt to
continue.
“Um…I’m shooting a documentary about wood turtles at the state
park. So I need a different lens than what we normally use in class.”
Brooks tilted his head as if he were interested, but didn’t ask any
follow-up questions, so Matt wasn’t sure if he was supposed to keep
talking or shift the conversation back to Brooks. “So, what are you
22
Daisy Harris
doing here?” Crap. That was a stupid question. Matt couldn’t believe
he’d asked it.
“Oh, I was just wrapping up this essay for Microeconomics, and
then I was going to head out to Montpelier for an exhibit I’ve been
wanting to catch at the modern art museum.” He paused thoughtfully,
in a way that seemed pretty choreographed. He folded his arms,
flexing his muscles. “But the guys I was gonna go with bailed, and
I’m not sure I wanna bother going on my own…”
Matt figured it was an invitation. He hadn’t had much experience
with flirting or dating, but he knew perfectly well when someone was
dropping a hint. His sisters had pulled the same “my friends ditched
me, would you come?” routine on him a bunch of times. “What’s the
exhibit?”
“I can’t remember the name, but it’s rotating from one of the
museums in New York. There are a few film clips, some photos, a lot
of comic representations. It’s an eclectic collection.”
“Oh…Well, sounds interesting. The film part, especially.” Matt
was a little surprised he hadn’t heard about the exhibit. Then again,
most of his classes focused on production or history of film, not so
much on film as a canvas for visual art. Unfortunately, none of the
classes Holsum offered went in-depth enough in the area of nature
documentary—Matt’s main interest lately.
“Yeah, I thought you might like that.” Brooks bounced, smiling,
but then he seemed to remember he was pretending it was a chance
encounter. He pushed his hands into his pockets. “So, do you want to
come along for the ride?”
“I guess.” Matt had promised Gabe he’d give this a try, and he
wasn’t busy enough that afternoon to come up with an excuse not to
go. Still, nerves fisted in his gut, and Matt couldn’t stop himself from
saying, “But, no funny business, okay? This isn’t a date.”
Brooks cocked his head to the side like a hawk who’d spotted a
mouse. “I didn’t say it was, man.”
Player and the Prude
23
Matt tried to formulate a response, but none came to mind, and he
ended up just saying, “Oh.” What’s worse, Brooks’s smirk and even
those damn glasses were doing things to Matt’s body again. Things
that were unwanted, unneeded, and completely out of Matt’s control.
He shucked his book bag off his shoulder and held it in front of
his crotch. “I’ve gotta go fill out the paperwork for that lens.”
Brooks glanced down Matt’s front. He grinned at the book bag,
his full lips curling up higher at one side. “Meet outside at four? I
want to beat rush hour traffic.”
“Okay, see you then.” Matt held his bag as casually as he could
over the front of his body and headed to the bathrooms. The door
handle felt cool and industrial in his hand, and he dragged it open.
Matt breathed a sigh of relief that there was no one inside. He locked
the outer door and then closed himself in a stall, pressing a hand over
the length of his cock. The quiet hum of the fans covered his groan.
He stared over the toilet at the dilapidated tan walls, hoping to
calm his arousal. But after a moment’s consideration, he opened his
belt, and then his pants, and without even pulling them down, he
shoved a hand into his shorts to grip his dick.
He couldn’t believe how many times he’d masturbated since
talking to Brooks on Sunday. It was worse than when he’d been in
high school. At least then Matt had still felt guilty enough about
touching himself that his hard-on sometimes waned on its own.
But now, Matt couldn’t seem to stop. He’d rub until he shot, but
the relief would be brief and unsatisfying. After a few minutes, some
thought or image of Brooks would flit across his brain and Matt
would be rock hard again.
He winced at a particularly rough stroke. Matt had a scrape under
the head from his morning whack, but he ignored the pain and
allowed his imagination to drift off to a scene he remembered from
his freshman year—Brooks running across a field, throwing a football
with some friends. The sun had glinted off the highlights in his hair,
and he’d looked so happy. In one shining moment, Brooks had looked
24
Daisy Harris
Matt’s way and smiled. Matt recalled how warm he’d gotten, how his
dick had filled to nearly painful in the shorts he’d been wearing. He’d
run back to his dorm room that day and stripped completely naked
before touching himself. And he’d thought about Brooks Price the
whole time.
Matt pressed his free hand onto the cool bathroom tile. His visions
of Brooks shifted, as they always did, to darker and harsher. He
wanted to shoot on Brooks’s face, or force his cock down his throat.
Pin him to the ground as he took him. He cringed, wishing he could
get off to the first pictures—the wholesome, good visions that led
where Matt wanted, rather than the aggressive, disturbing thoughts
that always crept in when he got close to orgasm.
As his fist sped faster, Matt scraped his nails on the bathroom
tile—he knew what would make him come, and that the things that
made him hate himself were the only ones that would bring even
temporary relief.
* * * *
Brooks lifted his arms and furtively smelled his pits. Not bad. He
could smell his skin through his deodorant, but he wasn’t ripe.
Yet.
Unfortunately, he always sweated more when he was nervous.
The sun beating down didn’t help, either. Why the fuck was it so
sunny in March?
He spotted Matt heading his direction from the other door of the
library. The stairs were white and reflected all the spring sunshine,
and maybe it was the good lighting, but Matt didn’t seem as badly
dressed as usual. Yeah, his jeans were baggy, and his shirt was a
plain, black crewneck, but he was wearing Converse sneakers, which
made him seem marginally more hip.
“Hi.” Matt came to a stop. With only the two of them standing
there, Matt towered over Brooks, his dark blond hair sandy in the
Player and the Prude
25
diffuse light. And Brooks realized his eyes weren’t brown, but green.
Not bright green—the kind you would notice. But more a hazel, olive-
y color. They were subtle, but nice.
“Hey, thanks for offering to keep me company.” He started
walking toward the senior lot where he kept his car. “D’you need to
go by your place to drop anything off?” Brooks knew it was a little
much to expect Matt to ditch everything and take off with him for a
few hours. However, he’d done his research about Matt’s class
schedule before orchestrating his trap, cornering Gabe outside the
cafeteria and grilling him about Matt’s whereabouts. He knew Matt
didn’t have anything else going on.
“No. Just so long as I can leave my bag in the car when we go in.”
Matt hitched up his shoulders, as if he thought Brooks was going to
attack him or something. It looked damn goofy on a guy who
sometimes probably hit his head on doorframes.
“That’s fine.” Brooks rounded down one pathway and then onto
another. When the sidewalk fell into shade, the temperature dropped,
so Brooks reached behind him for his sweatshirt. It was woven
through the ties on the pack—Brooks always kept it that way when it
was too hot to wear long sleeves but too cold to be without another
layer.
Matt must have seen what he was trying to do, because he grabbed
Brooks by the pack, forcing him to stand still. “Here, let me untie it.”
Matt’s frame cast a shadow over Brooks and sheltered him from the
wind. A second later, he handed Brooks his top.
“Give me that.” Matt held his hand out for Brooks to give him his
backpack, then held it while Brooks pulled the sweatshirt over his
head.
“Uh, thanks.” It was weird, but Matt’s casual consideration
freaked Brooks out a little. Brooks had lots of friends on campus, and
even more lovers. But he couldn’t remember the last time one of them
had done him a favor unasked. “Aren’t you going to be cold? It’ll be
dark by the time we get back.”
26
Daisy Harris
“No.” Matt turned in the direction of the parking lot, leading the
way as they walked. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look angry, either.
“I don’t get cold all that easily. At least not this time of year.”
“Why?” Brooks chuckled. “You from Alaska or something?”
Matt paused at Brooks’s car. “North Dakota.”
Brooks studied Matt again, this time with different eyes. Yeah, the
guy looked exactly like someone from the frozen north—like a
scruffy, somber Viking. Maybe Brooks had never noticed it before
because Matt always seemed so freaked out. “You don’t get cold even
in Vermont?” Being from New Jersey, Brooks had sort of assumed
Vermont was as chilly as it got. But he had an inkling that the center
of the country was worse.
“It’s cold here in the winter, but nothing like back home.” When
Brooks popped the locks on his Civic, Matt folded into the front seat.
In the small car, Matt’s knees nearly reached his chest. “It can get to
forty below at night.”
“Wow. I can’t even imagine.” Brooks started the car and hitched
his arm around Matt’s headrest to look backward and pull out.
Matt made a sound that was almost like a huff of air, but Brooks
knew it had to be what passed for him as a laugh. “You don’t want to
imagine.”
Brooks pulled out onto the street and turned in the direction of the
highway, feeling a small thrill of victory at having wrangled Matt into
his car. “Well, North Dakota’s never been high on my list of vacation
destinations. I guess I’ll keep it that way.”
“Good choice,” Matt said a little too aggressively. It made Brooks
think maybe there was a story buried there, but Brooks wasn’t sure if
he should ask. He chanced a toe in the water. “So, you were pretty
happy to leave?”
“Yeah.” Matt’s snicker was unkind. More unkind than Brooks had
ever heard from him.
Brooks wondered if he was seeing a hint of that temper Matt had
been trying to contain the other day in the refrigerator. “Oh.” Brooks
Player and the Prude
27
wondered if he should change the subject. He wasn’t sure if it would
be rude when Matt may—or may not—have been about to tell Brooks
some hairy drama from his past. “Vermont’s nice,” he added lamely.
Matt didn’t offer any more information, and since Brooks was
unused to asking people about themselves, they fell into an awkward
silence.
After what felt like an eternity, Brooks asked, “So, you’re
shooting a video about turtles?” He grasped at something he hoped
would get Matt talking.
“Yes.”
Brooks wondered if he was supposed to ask a follow-up question.
Normally, he was good at this kind of thing, but Matt wasn’t making
conversation easy. “So, are they endangered?”
Matt shrugged. “Yep. They’re endangered. Mostly from being run
over by cars or lawnmowers, or being picked up and carried around
by kids. People are idiots.” Matt stopped short with his monologue, as
if he didn’t want to let Brooks know he actually cared about
something. Or maybe because he was scared of getting worked up.
“So, uh, you’ll have to get all crouched down and stuff to film the
turtles, right?”
Matt must not have noticed Brooks’s effort at starting
conversation, because he only said, “Uh, yeah.”
Tired of trying to get Matt to speak, Brooks fiddled with his
stereo. “Hey, d’you mind if I turn this on?”
“No. Not at all.” If anything, Matt seemed relieved to not have to
come up with answers. He sat back in the seat, settling into an easy
silence while noise from the radio filled the car.
Brooks was surprised to find that he didn’t really mind the lack of
talking once he got used to it. He listened to the radio, enjoying the
drive since he seldom got far away from campus.
The trip took less than twenty minutes, and they rounded the
streets of Montpelier right as the traffic seemed to be picking up.
Brooks never had to wait more than a few seconds at a light. That
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Daisy Harris
alone had him in a pretty good mood by the time he pulled in front of
Montpelier Modern Art Museum. “Well, that wasn’t too bad.”
He shifted the car into park and shut off the radio. Then Brooks
noticed the expression on Matt’s face, which was a mixture of anger
and shock. His eyes were wide, and there was a vein pulsing like
crazy in his neck. “What?”
Matt ground his teeth for a split second before asking, “Erotic art?
Really?” He pointed at the banner hanging in the front of the museum.
The sign pictured the torsos of a naked man and a naked woman, both
dripping in multicolored paint.
“What?” It wasn’t even sexual, as far as Brooks could tell. They
only showed the people’s bellies.
“Those people are naked,” Matt whispered angrily.
“Yeah? What’s the problem?” Brooks asked. Sure, he’d brought
Matt to the exhibit so they could ogle sexy pictures together, but it
wasn’t like he’d bought them a prostitute to share. “What, are you like
a bible thumper or something?”
“No.” Matt raised his voice, its baritone echoing in the tiny car.
“And don’t call people that, it’s offensive.”
“Okay, okay.” Brooks held up his hands. “I didn’t realize you
were so—”
“I’m not.” Matt shifted in his seat, his anger obvious in the flush
on his cheeks and the hard set to his jaw. He scowled in a way that
was scary and a little bit hot. “I used to be, though. Was brought up
that way. But I’m not anymore.”
“Oh.” Brooks reined in the part of him that wanted to channel
Matt’s annoyance into an angry kiss. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to
deal with the fallout of some kind of religious conditioning. Having
been raised by atheists, he found the whole concept of religion a little
frightening. Still, they’d driven all the way to the city, and though
Brooks had made up an excuse to come to the exhibit, he did actually
want to see it. “Listen, you don’t have to come. But I want to at least
check it out…”
Player and the Prude
29
“No.” Matt shook his head. He made this little gesture with his
hands like he was arguing with himself. It was incredibly subtle, but
Brooks was getting used to Matt’s hints of movement. Matt gave him
the world’s tiniest eye roll. “I’ll go in.” He stopped short with his grip
on the handle. “But I want to point out to you that I said ‘no sex.’ So
you’re technically violating the terms of this date.”
Brooks smirked. “I believe you said, ‘No funny business’, and this
isn’t a ‘date.’”
“W-well,” he stammered. “You’re violating that, too.”
“Mmmm…Tell me what else you want me to violate.” Brooks
winked, but before Matt could get huffy again, he opened his door
and hopped out of the car. He didn’t miss Matt’s blush.
“You are so full of yourself.” Matt stepped past him and led the
way toward the doors of the art museum. Brooks let him take the lead,
because that allowed him to check out Matt’s ass, which was even
better in jeans than it had been in khakis.
“It’s on me, by the way.” Brooks stepped to Matt’s side as they
reached the door. “I invited you, so I should cover the tickets.” Even
with their student discount, Brooks figured Matt might not be thrilled
about the entrance fee.
“I thought you said this wasn’t a date.” Matt’s eyes crinkled in the
corners.
Brooks guessed that was what passed for “sparkled” in North
Dakota.
On impulse, Brooks reached for Matt’s hand. “It’s not a date. It’s
you taking advantage of my generosity.”
“Your generosity?” Matt pulled his hand out of Brooks’s hold. He
made a snort like a laugh, more obvious than any laugh Brooks had
heard from him up to that point.
“Hey, I’m a generous guy.” Brooks tried not to be offended. He
didn’t have too many opportunities to do shit for other people, but he
liked to, sometimes. And it’s not like Hunter or any of his other
30
Daisy Harris
friends were around to sneer at him about paying. “If you don’t wanna
accept my offer, man, I don’t give a—”
“I’m just kidding.” Matt leaned a little closer, as if he were
considering bumping into Brooks’s side but couldn’t bring himself to
make contact. Still, Brooks appreciated the effort. “I’m glad to
partake of this newfound generosity.” Matt stepped out of the way
and let Brooks get to the counter. “Now buy us some tickets before I
change my mind.”
Player and the Prude
31
Chapter Three
Matt had never had a hard-on for so long in his entire life. Each
step pinched his dick at a weird angle, and every time his fly rubbed
that spot under his head where he was scraped, Matt thought he was
going to have to shove his pants off and hump something—preferably
something softer than his own hand.
“Oh, cool. More anime. The last exhibit I went to only had a little,
and it was all straight.” Brooks read the placard next to an intricate
drawing of a man tied up and being taken both anally and orally by
two others. He showed nothing but casual artistic interest.
Meanwhile, Matt knew his eyes must be bugging out of his head.
It’s not like Matt hadn’t seen stuff like that. He’d watched porn.
But the images on the wall were somehow more dramatic. Or maybe
it was that he was looking at them in a public place, where anyone
could pass by, instead of in the privacy of his home. And of course, he
was with Brooks Price, who seemed like the kind of guy who’d done
every single thing the pictures on the walls showed, and then some.
Whom Matt wanted to do every one of those things to, and then some.
“I wish more gay artists worked with the pin-up style. I love
anime, don’t get me wrong. But it’s hard to find mid-century-style
comics with gay themes,” Brooks mused, moving onto the next
framed poster. It was a close-up of a giant cock penetrating an
asshole.
Matt didn’t want to look—looking would just make walking more
uncomfortable—but couldn’t drag away his gaze.
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Daisy Harris
“Ooh, that’s pretty hot.” Brooks waggled his eyebrows, smiling.
He gestured to a poster of several men who looked like sexualized
half animals.
The art hung against black walls, and people milled about looking
at the posters as if it were perfectly normal to watch guys having sex
on a Thursday afternoon.
“Which is your favorite?”
Matt opened his mouth, but couldn’t force out a word. Instead, he
accidentally swallowed a stray droplet of saliva the wrong way and
started coughing.
“Dude, you okay?” Brooks patted Matt on the back, but his touch
only made Matt’s dick ache worse.
“Uh, I gotta use the restroom.” Matt scanned for a sign and saw
the telltale symbols for male and female. He marched across the
gallery to the lavatory, took three steps through the gray-tiled
bathroom, and shut the stall door behind him.
He got his pants out of the way and grabbed his swollen, battered
cock. That first squeeze made him grunt, and Matt was glad the
bathroom was empty. He pumped as fast as he could, pausing to lick
his palm when the friction rubbed him raw. And after a dozen brutal
pulls, his orgasm wrenched itself from his balls, dribbling over his
fingers like a soda can that spurts because of too much pressure.
After a quick few breaths to slow his heart rate, Matt cleaned off
his hands and flushed the tissue. He listened for voices and footsteps
in the bathroom beyond, but all he heard was the tinkling sound of a
running toilet, so he opened his door.
Unfortunately, Brooks stood by the sinks, leaning against the wall
with his arms folded. His face held an odd expression—guarded,
maybe even hurt.
Matt didn’t know what his problem was. If anyone should be hurt,
it was Matt. What on earth had Brooks been doing following him,
anyway? “Excuse me.” Matt stepped past Brooks to get to the sinks
and twisted on the faucet. “What exactly are you doing in here?”
Player and the Prude
33
“I came in to see if you were all right.” Brooks’s eyes narrowed,
their blue depths stony. “Are you trying to make a point about
something?”
“What?” Matt paused in the midst of washing his hands. Shaking
off the water, he squared his shoulders. “What point would I possibly
be making?”
Brooks bit the edge of his lip in a move unlike any Matt had seen
from him before. It was as if Brooks was insecure. “Like, that I’m
ugly or something. You’d rather jack off alone than hook up with
me.”
There it was—Brooks knew what he’d been doing in the stall.
Matt would have thought he’d be more embarrassed, but mostly, he
was angry. “What do you care what I do, Brooks? Does everyone
have to want you? Is that what you need—for every single person
around you to want to…” He swallowed, not able to say “have sex”
out loud without getting madder.
“No.” Brooks pushed off the wall. He uncrossed his arms, fisting
his hands at his sides. “I don’t expect everyone to want to hook up
with me, but if I’m on a date with a guy…” He ran a frustrated hand
through his cropped brown hair. “Y’know what? Forget it. What you
do is your own business.”
Matt wanted to say something. Probably not that he was sorry, but
maybe that he hadn’t meant to hurt Brooks’s feelings. But Brooks was
already pushing out the bathroom doors. Matt followed, thinking
they’d go back to wandering around the museum. But Brooks
marched through the space, hardly stopping to look at the posters.
Without a word, Brooks headed to the exit and pushed out onto the
cool evening street.
Matt followed him to his car. It was a silver hatchback—not
technically anything special, except for the leather seats, sunroof, and
high-end stereo.
When Brooks clicked open the lock, Matt muttered, “You said it
wasn’t a date.”
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Daisy Harris
Brooks paused with his hand on the door. He narrowed his eyes,
his expression almost a scowl. “Yeah? Well, I lied.” Brooks wrenched
open his door and dropped into his seat.
Not seeing that he had any other choice, Matt opened his door and
fell into the seat next to Brooks. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings
or something.” He pulled the door closed, shutting them in the tiny
car together where they were way too close. He watched out the
window as Brooks backed out.
Matt wished things were different. That he wasn’t such a complete
and total pervert. That he had some kind of self-control.
In the midst of his self-chastisement, his stomach grumbled and
Matt realized how much he’d been looking forward to getting a snack
in Montpelier. He guessed that wasn’t going to happen now that
Brooks was so upset. Made sense that he should go hungry, after how
he’d acted. “Seriously—”
“Why don’t you want to hook up with me?” Brooks asked
abruptly. “I mean, it’s out in the open now. So why don’t you just tell
me?” His jaw was set in a hard line, and he glared at the road.
“It’s not you.”
Brooks rolled his eyes.
“No, seriously. I just…” Matt couldn’t believe he was going to
say this to Brooks Price, so he rushed his words. “I don’t believe in
having sex unless you’re together with someone. Maybe not married,
but at least dating.” He’d been raised to think sex only belonged in
marriage, but he wasn’t sure whether he still thought he’d have to be
legally bound to a man before they made love. However, he knew one
thing for certain. “I don’t believe in casual hookups.”
Brooks didn’t scoff, but Matt could tell he wanted to. So Matt
added, “Say what you want, but that’s what I think.” He crossed his
arms. Matt would have crossed his legs, too, if he’d had enough
legroom.
“Okay.”
Player and the Prude
35
Matt snapped his gaze around, trying to figure out what Brooks
was thinking. For once, his handsome face didn’t betray anything.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” The set of Brooks’s shoulders said that he was still angry,
but his voice was less brittle. “If that’s the excuse you want to give
yourself.”
Matt’s mouth fell open in outrage. “It’s not an excuse.”
Brooks glanced his direction, taking his eyes off the road for a
split second before returning his attention to the street. “Have you
ever kissed a guy? Or rubbed off with one? Y’know, you don’t have
to have actual sex to get off.”
“I’m not an idiot.” Matt knew all this. Gabe was always on his
case about dabbling in sexual activities. And Matt had opened his
mind a lot since he got to school. More than anyone who hadn’t
grown up like he had could understand. For Pete’s sake—he watched
porn with his housemates sometimes. He had blatant, direct
conversations about sex with people. He’d just been to an exhibit of
erotic art. Back in his hometown, saying the word erotic out loud was
enough for folks to brand you a pervert, even to lose your job.
“So, have you kissed a guy?” Brooks peeked over again. This time
he seemed less angry, and more interested.
Matt folded his arms more tightly. Brooks’s car was way too
small to get the kind of distance Matt needed. Not only was Brooks so
close they were almost touching, but Matt could smell the guy. His
pheromones were all over the car. The upholstery smelled like grass
and sweat and a hint of rugged soap. And of course, as soon as Matt
registered the smell, his dick got hard all over again. “No,” he bit out.
“I never saw the point in kissing since I knew I wasn’t going to want
to go any further.”
“Huh.” Brooks slowed the car, looking at street signs.
“Where are you going?” Matt knew the direction to the highway
and wasn’t sure why Brooks was veering off course.
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Daisy Harris
“I was thinking we could get something to eat.” After a few turns
of the steering wheel, he pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall.
There was no one around, and Brooks didn’t make a move to open the
door right away. Instead he blinked at Matt, his eyes blue and his
expression unreadable.
“I thought the date was over.” Matt twisted so he could look at
Brooks head-on. Whatever Brooks was going to argue, Matt wasn’t
going to back down on his beliefs.
“Can I kiss you?” Brooks asked.
Matt thought about it for a second. “Are you saying we’ll get food
if we kiss, but we’ll head back to school if I say no?” He raised his
eyebrows and uncrossed his arms, trying to sound strong and
masculine and not like a blushing virgin trying to protect her honor.
“No,” Brooks said calmly. “I’m asking if I can kiss you before we
get a bite to eat. If you say no, we’ll just grab dinner.” He waited—
not angry, or pushing, or even teasing, but like a poker player who’d
just set down a card and was asking for the dealer to give him another.
“I guess so.” Matt couldn’t think of a reason to say no, since
kissing didn’t violate any of his personal rules. He didn’t see the harm
in giving in to one moment of curiosity. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
He didn’t know if kissing would make Brooks his boyfriend, or if
it meant that Brooks wanted a relationship, or what. But he tried not
to think about it as Brooks leaned forward.
“Cool.” Brooks neared slowly, as if he were waiting for Matt to
close the gap. When Matt didn’t, Brooks eased forward more, until
Matt could feel the warmth of Brooks’s breath, smell his toothpaste or
mouthwash or maybe the gum he’d been chewing earlier. Matt’s
eyelids dropped to closed.
Brooks’s lips were soft and surprisingly cool. Brooks didn’t kiss
him at first, but let Matt get used to the feeling. And then Brooks
moved his mouth, a subtle brush of skin and wetness.
Matt forced himself to remain still. He didn’t kiss back, not even
when Brooks stroked his tongue over the seam of Matt’s lips. But that
Player and the Prude
37
slick caress wrung a moan from Matt’s chest—a sad, almost plaintive
sound that made Matt wonder if he wanted more of the kiss or less.
Brooks pulled away, but Matt didn’t open his eyes for a long
moment, not until he sensed that Brooks was far enough away that
Matt wouldn’t drag him back for another.
“Okay?” Brooks asked.
Matt swallowed, making sure his heart was still beating and
gauging whether he could talk without making a high-pitched squeak.
He forced a calm he didn’t feel and said, “Yeah. That was fine.”
“Cool.” Brooks gave him a naughty little smile. Then, before Matt
could get any more uncomfortable, he opened the door and stepped
out of the car.
His dick pounded with a dull ache, but Matt opened the door and
climbed into the parking lot. The sun was setting and cast a reddish-
purple haze over the sky, and the smell of hamburgers pickled the air.
Brooks sauntered across the parking lot, a strut in his step, his
jeans so tight they ought to be illegal. He grinned at Matt over his
shoulder and Matt knew Brooks had won some kind of point between
them.
“You coming?” Brooks called.
Almost. Matt jogged to catch up, ignoring the pinch of denim
against his erection. If this was what dating was like, Matt was going
to spend a lot of time with a very chafed cock.
* * * *
Brooks kissed Matt once more that night, in front of Matt’s house
when he dropped him off. And just like the first time, Matt didn’t kiss
him back. That was okay, because Brooks knew he was chipping
away at Matt’s defenses.
Though things hadn’t gone as far as he wanted, Brooks had kind
of gotten off on kissing Matt—especially since the guy had walked
around with a boner for a half hour after their first smooch in the car.
38
Daisy Harris
Brooks couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that effect on a guy.
Sure, he could chalk it up to Matt’s being a virgin, but Brooks didn’t
think it was just that. He had a feeling Matt liked him more than he let
on. Maybe even a lot more. The thought tickled Brooks’s ego and led
to a series of hot fantasies involving slowly deflowering Matt’s virgin
ass.
The senior lot was full when Brooks drove by, so he backed out of
the crowded space and curved around campus to check whether there
was room in the lot behind the athletic center. He pulled in next to
Hunter’s BMW and turned off the engine. Then, knowing he was
going to get harassed by his friend when he walked by his apartment,
Brooks brainstormed what he was going to say and how he was going
to spin his date.
Brooks lingered at the base of the stairs, thinking.
He hadn’t nailed Matt, and he wasn’t going to lie to Hunter and
say he had. He’d kissed Matt, but he wasn’t going to tell Hunter that,
either. Hunter would just laugh, and Brooks wasn’t in the mood to lay
out Matt’s whole hairy religious deal as an explanation. No—Brooks
would just keep his mouth shut and his eye on the end game.
“Hey, Price! What are you doing? Flogging your log?” Hunter
called to him from the porch outside both their apartments on the
fourth floor.
“Why, you wanna help, asshole?”
“Fucker.” Hunter raised the shot glass he was holding in Brooks’s
direction, as if he were giving Brooks a toast. Then Hunter downed it
in one gulp. “You gonna have a drink with me and Stan?”
“Yeah, sure.” Brooks didn’t really want to. He had to work on a
paper for his Public Policy class and had Regulation and Antitrust at
9:00 a.m. But he remembered that his mom was expecting him to talk
Hunter into visiting their house in the Hamptons over the summer.
Brooks lifted his chin, preparing for a whole different type of
game than the one he’d been playing with Matt. A game where the
stakes were higher and the players more powerful. Also, a game that
Player and the Prude
39
was a lot less fun. “Sure,” he called up to Hunter. Brooks shoved his
hands in his pockets and trudged up the steps. “I could hang out for a
few beers.”
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Daisy Harris
Chapter Four
“You really kissed him?” Gabe asked. He’d taken an unhealthy
level of interest in Matt and Brooks’s date, as far as Matt was
concerned. But that was typical for his roommate. Gabe always
thought he knew best.
“Yeah.” Matt washed his glass and then set it on the drying rack.
He pulled a dish towel out of the drawer. He knew he was blushing,
but at least he’d gotten to the point where he could think about Brooks
without getting wood. “Well, he kissed me.”
“How was it?” Gabe hopped up onto the counter, watching Matt
work. Gabe had been the one to cook dinner the night before, and
Matt had been too stunned from Brooks’s kiss to deal with dish duty
before morning.
“Did you like it when he kissed you?” Matt snapped. He didn’t
know why he was getting annoyed at Gabe. Maybe because he hated
feeling at a disadvantage, and Gabe’s sexual experience always made
Matt feel like a teenager. Of course, Matt was only twenty, so
teenager hadn’t been all that long ago.
Gabe folded one leg under the other. “I don’t think me and Brooks
ever kissed.” He pinched his chin, thinking. “Nope. Pretty sure we
never did that.”
Matt winced. “That’s disgusting.”
“What’s disgusting?” Gabe’s boyfriend, Nick, came wandering
out of the bedroom hallway. Nick was shirtless and scrubbing at his
reddish hair. He wasn’t really Matt’s type, but Matt was getting hard
at random lately, so he turned away before he could focus too much
on Nick’s body.
Player and the Prude
41
“It’s gross to hook up with someone you won’t even kiss.” Matt
decided to leave Brooks’s name out of the conversation, since Nick
tended to get angry any time he saw or heard about Brooks. Gabe and
Brooks had been fooling around right before Gabe and Nick got
together. Nick had never quite forgiven Brooks for having his
boyfriend before he did.
“I dunno.” Nick picked up a cup Matt had just finished drying. He
opened a box of cereal, sprinkling the counter with bits of sugar. “I
s’pose it depends on what you mean by ‘hooked up.’”
Matt glared at him, and not just because Nick was always making
a mess in the kitchen. Nick and Gabe’s easy domesticity bothered
him. It wasn’t just that he was jealous of his housemates. Matt felt bad
about himself whenever he was around them. Like they were the
picture-perfect gay couple who’d no doubt be adopting a dog from the
pound any day soon. Matt heard their laughter and happy whispers
through the door at night. He knew neither one of them ever harbored
the type of dark thoughts he did. Or had been wracked by sick
obsessions.
Matt swiped the counter, cleaning up Nick’s mess. “You think it’s
okay to get off with someone you’re not even interested in?” At least
there were some ways Matt could claim moral superiority.
Nick’s eyes went wide. “Dude, I’m just saying that if a couple
guys are just jerking off together or something, it doesn’t have to be
romantic.” He slumped back over to his boyfriend, as if sensing all
the frustration boiling under Matt’s skin and wanting to escape before
Matt blew.
Gabe didn’t seem to notice Matt’s annoyance, though. Either that,
or it didn’t bother him. He smiled benignly at Nick. “Says the straight
boy.”
“Oh, shut up.” Nick wrapped his arms around Gabe, kissing the
side of his head. Sweet and innocent, and completely unlike anything
Matt could imagine having with any man.
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Daisy Harris
Nick turned to Matt. “I just mean that different people have
different definitions of what counts as ‘sex.’”
“I guess.” Matt finished drying the last of the dishes and set the
rest on the counter. He thought about Brooks’s kiss—the way his lips
felt, and how close his body had been. His excitement bordered on
panic. “I think I should give the TA from my Sight and Sound
workshop a call.”
“Oh, stop it.” Gabe hopped off the counter and sidled up next to
Matt. He swatted Matt’s arm like an older brother.
“Stop what?” Matt rotated away from the sink and fit himself into
the corner between the refrigerator and the shelves. He crossed his
arms.
“Stop coming up with excuses not to date Brooks.”
Nick’s face became thunderous. His pale skin turned red. “You’re
talking about Brooks? Brooks Price?”
Gabe put a hand on Nick’s chest. “Yes, we are. And don’t
discourage Matt. Brooks’s a great starter boyfriend.”
Matt threw the down the towel he was holding. “I don’t want a
starter boyfriend. I want a real boyfriend.” He was sick of being on
the outside looking in—watching his perfect roommate get a perfect
boyfriend. Matt wanted a guy to love, and hang out with, and—for
Pete’s sake—have sex with.
Sure, maybe with Brooks he’d be the monster he imagined in his
fantasies. But Brooks brought out the worst in Matt. His attraction to
Brooks bordered on violent.
But the guy from his Sight and Sound workshop didn’t make Matt
think anything horrible. Neil was good looking, in a bland and non-
descript way. Matt could talk to Neil without getting flustered. Heck,
he could talk to Neil without even getting hard.
Maybe with Neil, Matt could have what Nick and Gabe had—a
nice, easy relationship.
And he wanted a relationship. Now that he’d started thinking
about it, Matt couldn’t get the idea of dating out of his head. If he
Player and the Prude
43
found a real boyfriend, he could stop being a virgin. He could stop
obsessing over Brooks. He could get on with his life.
“Well, maybe Brooks could be a real boyfriend.” Gabe didn’t look
like he believed it.
“I’m gonna give the guy from class a call.” Matt pushed past Gabe
and a smirking Nick and went to his room. He grabbed his cell phone
with one hand, and his dick with the other, and wondered if he could
make it through a phone call before jerking off for the second time
that morning.
* * * *
“What do you mean, he’s on a date?” Brooks stood at the door to
Matt’s house. Furtively, he tossed the single rose he’d been carrying
into the bushes. “It’s Saturday morning, for fuck’s sake.”
“He went for coffee with a guy from one of his classes.” Gabe
leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed and his expression so
amused Brooks wanted to shove him. “Should I tell him you stopped
by?”
Brooks narrowed his eyes. “How about you tell me where they
went?” He leaned on his heels, making sure to soften his aggression.
After all, he’d never get anywhere with Matt if Matt’s housemate
thought he was a dick. And Gabe had already helped him out once.
Brooks didn’t know how much more he could impose on Gabe’s
generosity.
“Huh. Do I sense the wicked Brooks Price getting tamed?” Gabe
raised his eyebrows and smirked, his expression painfully smug.
“Oh, shut it, Ashton.” Brooks stepped away from the door. He
hated asking for help. And he was not getting tamed. “Don’t tell me if
you don’t want to.”
“They went to the bookstore café, you big baby.” Gabe snickered.
“But if you go chasing after him, I expect you to be nice to him.”
Gabe eased farther into his house. “And don’t tell Matt I told you
44
Daisy Harris
where he was, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” Gabe shut the door,
leaving Brooks out on the ratty porch.
He glanced at the moldy couch and locked-up bicycles and
wondered whether it would make him a stalker to go crash Matt’s
date. Brooks wasn’t dressed for it. He was wearing shorts and
sneakers, having planned to go for a run after he stopped by Matt’s
house. But he figured he could spin the day so that he both jogged and
showed up where Matt was without looking desperate.
Bouncing to warm up, Brooks jogged toward campus, then broke
into a faster run. He took the long way around the dorms, getting his
blood pumping and feeling the satisfying slap of pavement under his
feet. Most of the guys on lacrosse ran together in the afternoons, but
Brooks had always liked to go out on his own in the mornings instead.
It saved him from getting mocked by Hunter the whole time. God, the
guy was getting on his nerves.
Brooks veered toward the playfields, and when he got to the
bleachers, he did a few quick sets of stairs. In the process, he dragged
off his sweatshirt. He knew he’d be sweaty and red faced by the time
he got to the bookstore, but that would only help with his plan. All
guys looked better with a little sheen.
After ten minutes of hard running, Brooks sprinted to the
bookstore. Breathing heavy, he grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and took
his place in line behind a couple of sleepy graduate students. He tried
to be subtle as he scanned for Matt and his date, and for a second,
Brooks worried he’d missed Matt altogether. But then the line moved
and a few people got out of the way.
Across the room, he spotted Matt. Their eyes met, and in that
second, Brooks knew everything he needed to know about whether
Matt liked him.
Matt’s mouth opened. He licked his lips. His Adam’s apple
bobbed on a swallow. He turned away, blushing.
And fuck if it wasn’t the sexiest thing Brooks had seen in his life.
Player and the Prude
45
“Excuse me?” The barista called for Brooks’s attention. “D’you
want to order something?” The girl gave him a smile like a grimace.
She had black hair with purple at the tips and looked like the type of
person to not want to wake up before noon on the weekends.
“Uh…I want…” Brooks tried to remember what he normally got
for coffee, but his mouth was dry. Had Matt always been that
attractive? Brooks felt like he’d been smacked upside the head by
Matt’s sexiness, and he was reeling, almost dizzy from the realization.
“Oh, I didn’t see your drink. Will that be all?” She pointed at the
bottle in Brooks’s hand.
He looked at it, blinking. “Oh, yeah. This’ll be all.” Brooks
reached into the little pocket in his running shorts and pulled out a
couple dollars. He handed them to the girl. “Thanks.”
She nodded tiredly and made change. When he dropped the coins
in the tip jar, she gave him what looked like her best attempt at a
smile. “Have a good day.”
Brooks turned his attention back to Matt’s table, but seeing how
Matt was trying to ignore him, he opted to go to the counter first. He
leafed through some of the papers on the bar, pretending some
bullshit article drew his attention. And when he felt, more than saw,
Matt dart a glance his direction, he unscrewed the cap off his
Gatorade bottle and made a big pornographic show out of tilting his
head back and drinking half the bottle in long swallows.
Yeah, he was starting to understand how sexy Matt was, but that
didn’t mean Brooks didn’t still need to work his charm.
When he glanced back over at the table, Matt was doing his best
to ignore Brooks. He stared resolutely at his coffee date, his fingers
rotating his coffee cup. He glanced in Brooks’s direction again before
fastening his gaze on the guy across the table.
Brooks took another long swig, using the bottom of his shirt to
wipe off his mouth so he could flash Matt his abs. Then, feeling like
he laid down all the groundwork he needed, Brooks headed to Matt’s
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Daisy Harris
table. “Hey.” Brooks recognized the guy Matt was sitting with—he
was a TA for one of the film classes.
The guy was all wrong for Matt. First off, he was known around
parties as a consummate top, and Brooks didn’t think it was healthy
for Matt to start out with someone who couldn’t be flexible in bed.
Not like Brooks bottomed often—actually, he hadn’t bottomed since
those couple times in high school—but he could be versatile for the
right guy.
Second, the TA guy was always falling madly in love with
boyfriends, then breaking up with them a week later. Matt didn’t need
that kind of drama.
“Um, hi, Brooks.” Matt darted his gaze up before returning his
attention to his coffee. The nervousness was damned funny on a guy
Matt’s height.
“Price.” Matt’s coffee date glared at Brooks from behind his
hipster glasses. Oh, yeah, the guy was totally trying to get into Matt’s
innocent pants. Brooks could see it written all over the guy’s face.
“You guys know each other?” Matt looked at his date, then at
Brooks. His forehead creased in the middle, and it was clear that he
was wondering if they’d slept together.
“Not really,” Brooks said. It was true—he knew the guy by sight
but not by name. “You are?”
The TA made a face like a sneer. “Neil. We were in Econ together
my senior year.”
Matt huffed out a breath like a laugh. His eyes crinkled around the
corners, but he hid his amusement behind his cup of coffee.
“Oh, yeah,” Brooks said. Now he remembered how Neil had slept
with a couple guys from Brooks’s freshman class. Neil wore his kinky
hair shorn almost to bald and his pants too tight and always played the
“sensitive” card. He had this deep, rich voice that always made guys
swoon and everyone think he was smarter than he was. Brooks hated
him on principle.
Brooks turned to Matt. “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?”
Player and the Prude
47
“Uh, okay.” Matt’s pupils dilated as if he were a deer caught in
headlights. He pushed his chair away from the table much more
quietly than Brooks would have expected, given his size. “Can you
hold on a sec?” he asked Neil.
Neil shrugged and turned back to his coffee. He leaned farther
back in his seat, his eyes darting around the café as if he already knew
his date was over. “Sure, man. Whatever.”
Brooks took a step behind Matt to herd him away from the table,
wanting to block Matt from Neil’s line of sight. It wasn’t easy,
considering Matt had several inches of height on him.
“What do you want?” Matt murmured when they were out of
earshot. He met Brooks’s eyes for a moment, got that panicked
expression again, and then looked away.
“I wanna know why you’re on a date with someone who isn’t
me,” Brooks whispered. Sure, it wasn’t his place to tell Matt what he
could and couldn’t do, but Matt didn’t know that. Maybe in Matt’s
small-town brain, kissing Brooks had made them exclusive. If that
were the case, Brooks was going to work it to his advantage.
“I wasn’t under the impression you thought we were dating.” Matt
stood to his full, impressive height, his face blank.
Brooks considered his next step. Too pushy and he’d come off
insincere, too laid-back and he’d lose his chance with Matt. Sensitive-
guy TA would have Matt’s jeans around his ankles in no time, telling
him he “cared” about him and all that bullshit. Then Matt would be
crushed when he found out all the other guys Neil had been in love
with.
So Brooks went with the answer that came the most easily. “Well,
I sorta hoped we’d hang out again. Y’know…together. Does that
count?”
Matt narrowed his eyes. “I guess.” He frowned, crossing his arms.
He didn’t look angry, though. More like he was trying to rein himself
in. “You’re saying you really wanna go out with me? Like, as a
boyfriend?”
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Daisy Harris
“Yeah,” Brooks answered before he could think. But he didn’t
want to take it back. He liked Matt. A lot, if he stopped to think about
it. Maybe it was just that Matt was a challenge, but he was different
from any of the other guys Brooks new. That let Brooks be different,
too. It was nice to hang out with someone he didn’t have to one-up all
the time.
“Even if I won’t have sex with you?”
Well, that part was up for debate as far as Brooks was concerned.
Still, he reached out and took Matt’s hand, trying to solidify the deal.
Over Matt’s shoulder he saw Neil scowling, but that only made
Brooks grin. “I wanna go out with you, okay?”
Matt peeked over his shoulder at Neil, but when he turned back to
Brooks, the corners of his eyes were crinkling in a nervous almost-
smile. “This is a terrible idea.”
Brooks shot him a lusty wink. “The fun stuff usually is.”
Player and the Prude
49
Chapter Five
“So, are you a top or a bottom?” Brooks asked.
Matt choked on his soda, and it fizzed up his nose. He pounded
his fist to his sternum. “Dude!”
“What?” Brooks shrugged nonchalantly and then took a bite of his
pizza. He didn’t seem to care that they were in the cafeteria and
surrounded by the lunch crowd. Of course, no one was sitting at their
table, but still. Someone could be reading lips.
“Isn’t that kind of personal?” Matt whispered.
“I dunno.” Brooks sipped his soda, apparently not worried about
Matt’s coughing fit or any of the people sitting nearby. “It seems like
a pretty important thing for two guys to work out at the beginning of a
relationship.”
The word relationship still sounded weird coming out of Brooks’s
mouth. They’d been hanging out together for a couple weeks,
watching movies or studying together when their schedules allowed.
Matt guessed they were dating, though they always hung out in
groups or in public and never did anything more than kiss. “Huh. I
guess.” He felt odd just coming out with his preferences. His fantasies
were harsh, aggressive, often violent. They made him question
whether he was even a good person. He wasn’t sure whether he was
ready to share them with someone else.
And wasn’t that what it meant to tell a guy if he was a top or a
bottom? Wasn’t that the same as describing what he thought about
when he jerked off? No way was Matt going to tell Brooks about that.
“What about you?”
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Daisy Harris
Brooks’s mouth was full, so he took another sip of soda and
swallowed his bite. “Top, mostly.”
Matt flinched. So that was it—Brooks wanted to penetrate him. It
was only then that he realized he’d sort of been thinking things
between them would work the other way around. But he didn’t want
to break up with Brooks, especially over something he wasn’t sure
about. Especially when he knew he’d have to keep what he really
wanted so fully under wraps. So he just said, “Oh.”
“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” Brooks winked at him over the top
of his soda. He set his cup on his tray and kicked his leg around the
bench, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “You done?” Brooks
looked at Matt’s tray—which held a half-eaten hamburger.
“Yeah, m’not hungry.” Matt crumpled up his napkin and tossed it
on top of his food. His stomach felt tied in knots, and his emotions
reorganized themselves in his head—Brooks was a top.
He topped.
That meant Matt would be expected to bottom.
Matt thought he might throw up.
“Hey.” Brooks carried his tray around to Matt’s side of the table
and sat down on the bench next to him. “I’m not rigid about it or
anything.” He butted Matt in the arm. “Maybe you’ll be the man to
change my mind.”
A lump coalesced in the middle of Matt’s chest. He wondered if it
would be better if he were on the penetrating end of the scenario, even
if he couldn’t do everything else he wanted. A small voice in his head
said that it would be. But Matt’s mind rebelled at the thought of
having to perform, especially since Brooks had such a long list of
lovers to compare him to.
Plus, Matt would be competing with Brooks’s own sexual
prowess, which was no doubt immense. Maybe it would be better if
Brooks was the one in charge.
“Dude, c’mon. Sorry I freaked you out.” Brooks took the tray out
of Matt’s hands and bussed it over to the garbage. He threw out their
Player and the Prude
51
cups and set their trays on top of the trash cans. Then he jogged back,
smiling, and held out a hand. “Seriously. Let’s go.”
“Okay.” He didn’t take the hand Brooks offered. And, feeling like
it would be an admission of his submissive status if he followed, Matt
led the way up the stairs and out of the cafeteria.
It was sunny and warm outside, the Vermont sky wide open and
the campus full of pale green leaves. Brooks turned to him and
smiled, making Matt feet marginally better. Brooks was so sweet and
handsome, Matt should be happy to do anything with him. Even
touching him was a thrill.
“You heading to class?” Brooks asked. He plunged his hands in
his pockets as if he were cold.
Matt wondered why Brooks hadn’t brought a sweatshirt, and
made a mental note to remind him to pick one up if they went by
Brooks’s house. “Nope. I’ve gotta swing home for some notes I
forgot. I’ll probably study there for a while. You can come if you
want.”
“Cool.” Brooks kept pace down the pathway connecting the
cafeteria with the immense grassy lawns in front of the library. And
when they got to the main promenade through campus, it seemed like
Brooks couldn’t keep his hands to himself any longer, because he
tugged his fists out of his pockets and made a grab for Matt’s hand.
“Hey.” Matt stared at their joined fists, not pulling away, but not
sure if he was comfortable with public displays of affection.
But Brooks ignored Matt’s protest, swinging their arms in time as
he walked. “What time do you have to be back on campus?”
“My roommates are going to be home.” He hoped it sounded like
a warning, and not like he was nervous about them being alone
together.
“No worries. I was just asking, because I have to pick up some
liquor for a party later and wanted to know if it made sense to drive to
your place.”
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Daisy Harris
“Oh.” Matt tried to come up with something nefarious in Brooks’s
explanation. Finding nothing to argue over, he decided to tell the
truth. “I’ve got to be back by four.”
“Cool,” Brooks said again. Then, when Matt let down his guard,
Brooks leaned over and kissed his cheek. It was warm and soft, and
even though it only lasted a second, Matt felt the imprint of Brooks’s
body long after they were again only touching at the hands.
His face heated, and Matt lifted his chin so Brooks wouldn’t see.
Sometimes being tall had its advantages.
When they crossed the street separating campus from the town
beyond, Brooks let go of Matt’s hand. Matt wasn’t offended. There
was an unspoken understanding among most gay kids at Holsum that,
while the campus was extremely tolerant and gay friendly, Middleton
beyond was less so.
They crossed the few blocks to Matt’s house, with Brooks
pattering on about classes and parties and Matt’s penis slowly
expanding until it was so full it hurt to walk. Matt couldn’t believe
how he could be terrified and turned on at the same time. But, if
anything, Brooks’s questions earlier about their sexual roles had only
made Matt more aroused. He could barely hear Brooks talking over
the pounding in his ears.
“Here we are.” Brooks stated the obvious as they slowed in front
of Matt’s house.
“Yup.” Matt came to a stop at the foot of the stairs. He was
tempted to tell Brooks to go home, that he wasn’t ready to spend time
together anywhere private, but Brooks chose that moment to give him
a blindingly bright smile.
“We going inside?” He tilted his head playfully, as if he knew
perfectly well Matt was stalling.
“Uh, sure.” Matt jogged up the stairs. He wrenched the handle,
hoping the door would be open and Nick, Gabe, or Matt’s other
housemate, Sarah, would be home. But the lock held, barring his
entry.
Player and the Prude
53
“Guess they’re not home after all.” With a forced chuckle, Matt
dug his key out of his pocket. He felt Brooks’s heat at his back, then
Brooks’s breath on his neck right before he pushed the door open.
“You gonna let me in?” Brooks murmured suggestively.
Matt let out a breath. By the time he’d stepped over the threshold,
Brooks’s hand fell on his waist. And Brooks must have kicked the
door shut with his foot, because Brooks’s touch never left his body as
he urged Matt across the room and to the couch. Matt spun around
and sat, and Brooks fell onto the cushions next to him—touching
Matt’s shoulders, and his face, pulling him into a kiss.
Matt forced himself to take it without pushing back. He opened
his mouth, feeling Brooks’s tongue exploring. Brooks pumped gently,
his tongue salty and warm and tasting like pizza and man. He never
touched Matt lower, just wove his fingers behind Matt’s neck to tilt
Matt’s head to a different angle. When Brooks pulled away, moaning
a little in the back of his throat, Matt arched his back, lifting his hips
off the couch.
He forced himself back to sitting, though he desperately wanted to
press a hand onto his errant cock.
“You okay?” Brooks asked. His breaths were short and sharp, his
eyes searching.
Matt realized Brooks would stop if he asked. But—God help
him—he didn’t want him to stop. “I’m…” He wondered how to
explain things. Matt thought he might explode if he didn’t climax, but
he wasn’t ready for sex. Wasn’t ready for a lot of things. And he
didn’t want to be rude again by taking matters into his own hand.
“Can I touch you?” The downward dart of Brooks’s eyes made it
obvious where he was talking about touching.
Matt’s hips bucked off the couch, as if answering Brooks’s
question. “I…”
“Just over the pants. You don’t even have to take it out.”
Matt pressed his eyes closed. Yeah, he could handle that much.
And he wanted it so badly. “Yeah, sure…”
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Daisy Harris
Brooks launched at Matt again, sealing their mouths in a kiss. He
snaked a hand down Matt’s front, down the indent of his chest, and
over his belly. Matt sucked in his stomach at the feel of it, but then
Brooks’s palm folded over Matt’s cock and squeezed.
“Oh…” Matt moaned into Brooks’s mouth. He couldn’t stop
grinding up into Brooks’s hand, writhing and pumping. Matt fisted
the seat cushions, trying not to get too aggressive or jump on top of
the guy. Brooks was smaller than him, and Matt could hurt him if he
rubbed him too hard. And Matt wanted to hurt him—push him down
and make Brooks beg. And the thought scared him so much he almost
pushed Brooks away.
“Wow, you are seriously packin’ under there, aren’t you?” Brooks
smiled against Matt’s mouth. He was cool as a cucumber, and besides
a few appreciative moans, he seemed oblivious to Matt’s struggle.
Before he could find words to answer, Matt felt that heavy twist
low in his body. He groaned, feeling the pulse of his cock and his
warm wetness coating him within the confines of his jeans. For a split
second, it was like he’d reached heaven, and all he could feel was
Brooks’s weight against him, and Brooks’s eager fingers. But then,
hot on the heels of his orgasm, came a creeping, sickening shame.
He could hear his mother’s voice in his mind, telling him he was
sick and perverted, his father’s voice telling him he was disgusting
and going to hell. He imagined they—and everyone in his
congregation back home—knew every sick and sordid thing he’d ever
thought about. They already considered him an abomination for being
gay. He couldn’t imagine what they’d think if they knew the truth.
He shivered, wetness cooling in his underwear, and tears filling
his eyes. Matt sniffled, trying to suck the wetness back inside before
Brooks could see. With a wipe of his hand across his face, he bounded
off the couch. “I gotta go change.” He rushed down the hall to his
bedroom and shut the door behind him. His emotions batted around,
too sharp and painful to name, but making him want to punch the
wall.
Player and the Prude
55
Matt blew out breath after breath, trying to get control of his body,
his mind. When he’d settled enough for coherent thought, he fell onto
his knees. And though he hadn’t prayed in years, he asked God only
one favor. That by the time he left his room again, Brooks would be
gone.
* * * *
Brooks shifted into a more comfortable position, frowning into the
hallway where Matt had just disappeared. He wondered what the fuck
had just happened. On the one hand, it flattered him no end that Matt
had come before Brooks even pulled out his dick. On the other hand,
the guy seemed pretty upset about it.
“Hey,” Brooks called down the hallway. Then he got up and
approached Matt’s door. He didn’t knock, just called through the
plywood. “I’m not mad or anything. That was cute. I’m mean, you’re
cute.” He cleared his throat to correct himself. “I mean hot.” When
Matt didn’t answer, he added, “Lots of guys come fast the first time.
It’s not like you can’t go again.” He didn’t know if Matt and he were
going to go any further before Matt’s class, but Brooks sort of hoped
so.
After a long moment, Matt answered. “Just go, okay?”
“What?” Brooks made a face at Matt’s door. “I’m trying to make
you feel better, dude.” He wasn’t used to acting compassionate, nor
did he know too many guys who would want him to. This was all new
to Brooks, and he didn’t like being made to feel like he was doing it
wrong. “C’mon. Let me in.”
There was shuffling on the other side of the door. “Go away.”
Matt sounded sad. So defeated that Brooks didn’t even care that Matt
was blowing him off.
“C’mon, man.” Brooks turned the handle and opened the door.
Matt was standing with his back to Brooks, wearing nothing but
white briefs and his T-shirt. A pair of sweatpants dangled from his
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hand, and Brooks figured Matt had been about to put them on. Matt’s
head was bowed, and his hand on the dresser was fisted like he
wanted to pound the thing to shreds.
“Dude…” Brooks crossed to him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen
someone so upset. Certainly not for coming too fast. He reached out
and put his hand on Matt’s shoulder. And though it surprised him,
Matt didn’t shove him away.
Brooks made his voice as gentle as possible when he asked,
“Wassup?”
Matt’s head fell back, and he stared at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure
you wouldn’t understand.”
Brooks didn’t know why Matt’s statement pissed him off, but it
did. He wasn’t an idiot. Brooks understood a lot more than most
people gave him credit for. “Why don’t you try me?”
“Fine.” Matt shook the pants to the floor and fed his legs quickly
into them. It gave Brooks just enough time to notice that Matt’s legs
were covered in dark blonde hair all the way up to his thighs. It made
Brooks think of how they’d look if Matt ever railed into someone. It
would be fucking hot, though he knew right then wasn’t the time to
mention it.
“I feel horrible, okay?”
“Okay.” Brooks folded his leg under him and settled onto Matt’s
bed. He thought it was a testament to how hard he was trying in this
relationship that he hardly noticed how stiff he still was. “What do
you feel horrible about?”
Matt shrugged.
“About coming? Or coming with a man? Or because we just
started going out?” Brooks laid out all the options he could think of.
But then another occurred to him. “Maybe you wished it was with
someone else?” Fuck, Brooks hated asking. He really hated asking.
He hadn’t realized until then how glad he’d been to be Matt’s first.
“No.” Matt shook his head, bending to sit on the bed, though he
kept a few feet of distance between them. He ran a hand through his
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57
shaggy mess of hair. “You gotta understand—I got a beating if I got
caught touching myself as a kid.” Matt took a shuddering breath. “I
don’t understand how you can be so casual about things.”
Brooks winced. “Are you serious? Your parents were totally
fucked up.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Everyone I knew was like that. You weren’t
supposed to have sex unless you were married.”
“Yeah, but rubbing off isn’t—”
“Well, maybe it wasn’t sex, but it was perversion.”
Brooks couldn’t believe Matt had just said that with a straight
face. “Tell me you don’t believe that.”
“No.” Matt stared at his wall. “No, I don’t believe it anymore.” He
rolled back his shoulders, seeming to gather courage from his
thoughts. “I’m not sure I ever really believed it.”
“Cool.” Brooks shifted around. At least they agreed about some
things. “I don’t mean to state the obvious here, but you know the sex
you have with men is never going to lead to children, right?”
Matt snorted. Though Matt wasn’t smiling, Brooks was pretty sure
he’d meant it as a laugh.
“So, whatever you do is going to be…” Brooks waved his hand,
searching the air for the right way to put it. Just for fun sounded
shallow, but all about connection felt forced. In the end, Brooks
settled for saying sarcastically, “Pleasures of the flesh.”
“Yeah.” Matt chewed his lip, thinking. It didn’t seem that he’d
gotten Brooks’s joke. “Yeah, I know. And I’ve known I was gay for a
while now, so it’s not like I’ve ever really considered having sex the
other way.”
“You mean the vagina way?”
This time when Matt laughed, he smiled. The way his lip curled
was subtle, but that didn’t stop it from being beautiful. “Yeah, that
way.”
Brooks leaned back onto his hands, hoping to distract Matt by
showing off his body. Yeah, it was shallow. But there were worse
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ways to try to cheer a guy up. “So, what’s the issue?” He watched the
way Matt’s eyes darted around the room, his nervous lip biting. He’d
never wanted to get into other guys’ issues before, but with Matt it
mattered. It was as if he were a puzzle Brooks wanted to solve. Or a
present he couldn’t wait to open.
“I…” Matt rested his face in his hands. He sat like that for a long
moment, so long Brooks was tempted to say something just to break
the silence, but then he let out a long sigh. “Okay, can we try
something?” He looked up at Brooks, wary but resigned. “I mean,
would it be okay if I asked you to let me try something?”
“Sure.” Brooks was up for pretty much anything, having done just
about every sex act he could think of. “Listen—I’m totally cool.” He
hoped Matt understood that he was talking about the whole
top/bottom thing. Brooks felt a little bad about freaking Matt out
when he’d brought it up.
“It’s not that.” Matt inched closer. He ran his gaze up and down
Brooks’s body. Apparently, Brooks’s plan of distraction had worked.
“It’s…” Matt bit the edge of his fingernail. “Could you lay back? And
maybe not move?”
Brooks raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t pegged Matt for a kinkster,
but the idea he might be was fucking hot. “Okay.” He relaxed onto the
bed, wondering what Matt would do next. But Matt looked so focused
and intense that Brooks didn’t dare ask.
Matt followed him down, leaning on his palm, but hovering over.
He never stopped his calculating glances—as if Brooks were a piece
of meat and Matt was trying to figure out how to slice it. “You don’t
have to if you don’t want to—but, would you just let me kiss you?
And not touch back?” Matt’s eyes were dark and serious, yet
completely vulnerable. So much so that Brooks couldn’t possibly say
no.
“Yeah, no problem.” Brooks placed his hands, palm down, on
Matt’s camouflage-colored sheets. He waited, watching Matt’s olive
eyes flicker.
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“Good.” Matt leaned in closer, a slow, tentative approach.
But for all Matt’s hesitancy, Brooks knew that they were getting
to the heart of things. That he was getting a peek inside Matt’s
wrapped-tight box. Brooks closed his eyes, waiting. His skin felt too
tight. His hips almost levitated off the mattress. He’d been tied up
before and tied other guys up, too, but he’d never felt such a delicious
sense of anticipation—maybe because when he’d been tied up he’d
always been with guys who were smaller than him. If he’d really
wanted to, he could have easily broken free.
With Matt, it was different. He was big enough to block the light
from the ceiling lamp. Broad enough to pin Brooks to the mattress.
Matt hovered close, his lips inches away and damp from his
tongue.
Brooks could feel their warmth, smell Matt’s breath. He opened
his mouth, waiting for Matt to finally kiss him back.
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Chapter Six
Matt took slow, careful nips. Brooks tasted salty, and his stubble
scraped Matt’s chin. But he tilted his head up, letting Matt explore.
Trusting Brooks not to move, not to push him too far and too fast,
Matt nibbled Brooks’s bottom lip, then suckled his top one. He licked
softly into Brooks’s mouth, and he felt more than heard Brooks’s
groan when their tongues met.
It felt like they were kissing for the first time. Or maybe kissing as
they were meant to for the first time, because taking the lead felt so
very perfectly right. Maybe if they always did it like this, Matt
wouldn’t be plagued by darker imaginings. He could just worship
Brooks with his mouth and his hands. Maybe even eventually his
cock.
And he and Brooks could be like those shining, happy gay couples
Matt always envied. Like Nick and Gabe, or Chris and Peter—
couples he could imagine seeing at church on Sunday, assuming it
was one of those non-denominational, open-minded types of places.
Matt wrapped his hand to Brooks’s back and pulled him up a
fraction, so that Brooks clutched at Matt’s arms on reflex. It was so
darned romantic Matt’s heart skipped a beat.
“Oh, sorry.” Brooks let go, flailing his thick arms awkwardly back
onto the bed.
“No worries.” Matt settled him back down. He’d liked Brooks
grabbing him, but a little too much. He needed to kiss him more,
touch him more, show Brooks with his body how much he cared
about him. And if Brooks started touching him back, Matt didn’t
know what he’d do.
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Probably, at this point, he’d start holding Brooks down by force.
And he so wasn’t ready to go there. “I’m sorry.” He kissed Brooks
again, only cradling his nape, careful not to wrench him too high or
bite him too hard.
“S’fine.” Brooks breathed between kisses. “You can tie me to the
bed, if you want.” He craned his neck to look at Matt’s headboard.
No. Matt’s mind rebelled. No, no, no. That would be too much. He
fought back a series of images involving Brooks’s wrists and ankles
stretched over his head and fastened to the corners of Matt’s
headboard. Brooks hard and needy, his cock dripping pre-cum while
Matt tortured his ass and balls.
Matt growled as he shook the thought from his head. “No.” Matt
brushed a kiss over his mouth, as gently as he could. “Just…” He
considered his headboard again. It was flat and solid, but had a ridge
of space between the mattress and the wood. Matt was always losing
pens through that crack. “Could you reach up and grab under there?”
He gestured with his eyes at the crevice.
Brooks twisted around to see what he meant. Then he reached
over his head, hooking his fingers under that ridge. Doing so made his
chest look enormous and showed off the muscles in his arms. Brooks
must have known, because he shot Matt a cocky grin. “Look at you,
getting your kink on.”
Matt crushed his mouth into Brooks, stopping him from getting
out another word. It was as if Brooks were trying to get Matt to lose
control, goading him to do his worst. And Matt could in no way put
up with it if Brooks kept talking.
He rolled on top so their bodies pressed flush. Matt felt Brooks’s
cock jabbing into his thigh, and he pumped his own erection into
Brooks’s belly. Brooks was perfect under him—the right size, the
right smell. Matt couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else, or
even wanting to. And somehow, with Brooks gripping the bed,
squirming, but not grabbing, it was all all right. Matt could do this.
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Could get Brooks off. He pumped again, feeling Brooks’s answer in
the jut of his hips. And Matt thought maybe it would all be okay.
He wrestled Brooks’s shirt over his head and up to his forearms,
providing another layer of restraint. He feasted his eyes on the
expanse of Brooks’s smooth chest, his ridges of muscle. Brooks was
beautiful, and at that moment, totally his.
“Your shirt, too.” Brooks wiggled as if he were trying to get
Matt’s top off with his hips. He bent to Matt’s shoulder and bit the
collar of his shirt with his teeth.
Matt ripped his shirt over his head and then fell on top again so
their stomachs touched. He was hard all over again, thinking he might
climax just from the feel of Brooks’s skin against his belly. Matt
kissed his way down Brooks’s neck, wanting to taste every part of
him, feel where he was hairy and where he was smooth. Matt wanted
to hold Brooks’s cock in his hand and watch his eyes when Brooks
came apart.
He ran a hand down Brooks’s belly to fumble with the front of his
jeans. Matt’s only thought was to touch more, and now. But when he
got Brooks’s top button open, he pulled up far enough to see Brooks’s
face. “This is okay, right?”
Brooks’s lips were red and kiss bruised, and his eyes were wide.
He was gorgeous with his arms stretched over his head and his body
thrumming with anticipation. He looked at Matt like he loved him.
“Yeah. If it’s okay with you.”
Matt dove back to Brooks’s mouth, lapping at his tongue, sucking
and biting his thick bottom lip. He tugged open Brooks’s button fly
and fed his hand under the elastic of his waistband. It was fast—
probably faster than Matt should have been going, but that didn’t
matter when Matt felt Brooks’s dick fill his hand.
“Oh, my God.” Brooks arched, pressing his cock through Matt’s
fist. And Matt had to stop kissing long enough to watch him, to see
Brooks’s eyes roll back in his head and his lips quiver. Matt couldn’t
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63
resist stroking him again, and again, feeling the dampness collecting
at his tip, listening to Brooks’s pants become moans.
“Can I?” Brooks lifted his head to peer down Matt’s body to
where Matt’s dick bowed the front of his sweatpants.
“I’ll do it.” Matt shoved down his pants and underwear, leaving
them wrapped around his knees. He rolled on top, with enough space
between them to grasp both their cocks in his hand like he’d seen men
do in porn movies.
Brooks made the softest, most desperate sound, and Matt groaned
right along with him. The feel of them pressed together was
amazing—better than Matt could have imagined. Brooks shivered
beneath him, his cock pulsing in Matt’s hand. Their caps clicked
against each other through Matt’s fist, and he worked them just a little
too hard, trying to make it last all the longer. But to Matt’s surprise,
Brooks bucked underneath him, his hips snapping, and his cock
spilling hot cum over their bellies.
Matt let go of their cocks and pumped through the wetness on
Brooks’s stomach. His own orgasm climbed from between his thighs,
gripping him hard and wrenching him open. He held Brooks close, his
body spasming, and filled the space between them with more liquid
warmth.
He rested his head on Brooks’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of
his skin, feeling their muscles twitching together. And for a long and
perfect moment, it felt like they were one person.
“You okay?” Brooks didn’t let go of the bed frame. His voice was
nervous. “Not freaking out again?”
Matt thought about it for a moment. The semen between them was
cooling, and he wanted to get up before it got sticky. But other than a
vague sense that they should get cleaned up, he felt otherwise fine.
“Nope. No freak out.” Matt pushed up and rolled to the side. He
looked at Brooks for a long moment, watching his chest rise and fall,
enjoying the sight of him still clutching the bed frame. Matt waited
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until he was sure—completely sure—he could handle Brooks’s touch.
“You can let go now.”
Brooks blinked, as if he’d forgotten he was still immobile. Slowly,
he let go of his grip and lowered his hands. His eyes were uncertain,
and his lips wet and parted. He looked so beautiful, but also like he
had no idea what had just happened.
And Matt wished that he knew. “You okay?” Given his meltdown
earlier, Matt felt a little awkward checking in with Brooks’s well-
being. But it felt like the right thing to do.
“Yeah.” Brooks cleared his throat. Then he flexed his fingers
before tentatively touching Matt’s chest. He tilted his head like he
was trying to figure something out. “That’s good, right?”
“Yeah.” Matt smiled. He stroked Brooks’s face, marveling at his
sharp jaw, and his flashing eyes, and that Brooks was all his. “Yeah, I
think it might be great.”
* * * *
“So, why are you still hanging around with that dork?” Hunter
asked, leaning back in his chair and watching Brooks over the top of
his sunglasses.
Brooks shoveled in another forkful of breakfast, not wanting to
answer. He’d long ago stopped thinking of Matt as a dork, and though
the two of them hadn’t done anything more than rub off together in
the month since they’d started going out, Brooks felt like their
relationship was exactly where he wanted it to be.
In some ways, it was more sexually adventurous than anything
else he’d done—since Matt still wasn’t comfortable making out
unless Brooks held mostly still.
Brooks kind of got off on it, too. In some ways, that didn’t
surprise him—he loved attention, and he really liked how excited
Matt got when he was the one calling all the shots.
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65
And if Brooks sometimes felt restricted—like he wished he could
push it a little further—he tried to ignore it. Matt was a great guy, and
they had fun together. They had plenty of time for Matt to work on
getting over his issues.
“Tell me you’ve done him already. With the man-hours you’ve
put into it, you could have turned a straight guy by now.” Hunter
studied Brooks with a little too much interest—as if he knew he was
making Brooks uncomfortable and enjoyed seeing him twist in the
wind. “Or can’t you close the deal? Is that why it’s taking so long?”
“The fuck, man? We didn’t set a time limit.” Of course, Brooks
knew the timeline was implied. When he and Hunter normally dared
each other to do something, it was expected that they’d either do it or
chicken out within a day or two.
“So, you haven’t fucked him yet?” Hunter chuckled. “He must be
one tough nut to crack.” Then Hunter held his hand in front of his
lips, snickering like he’d just thought of something brilliant. “Or a
tough crack to nut.”
“Oh, I have,” Brooks lied. He couldn’t think of any other way to
get out of the conversation with any dignity. Brooks knew what
Hunter thought about guys who routinely bottomed. Hunter looked
down on them—and fuck if Brooks was gonna be one of those guys to
his friend.
Of course, Brooks hadn’t actually bottomed yet with Matt. But he
knew they’d get there eventually. It was written all over Matt’s face
every time Matt climbed on top.
Brooks wasn’t going to tell Hunter even the smallest detail of his
love life with Matt. Not ever. “Y’know—I don’t care about the
money. Matt’s a good guy.” Watching the way Hunter’s face twisted
in disbelief, Brooks decided to say something that would get them
back on track. “And he’s great in bed.”
Inside, Brooks died a little. They were only words, but he felt like
he was prostituting Matt for Hunter’s benefit. Or maybe for his own.
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“I’m gonna keep seeing him, so I don’t think it counts as bet material
anymore.”
Hunter crossed his arms, looking pissed. Brooks had seen that
look before. Hunter Ford hated it when someone changed the rules on
his games. “You can’t back out of a bet. And anyway, what proof do
you have?”
“What the fuck do you want? The guy’s underwear or
something?” Brooks’s gut flipped in a knot. He was cool with lying to
his friend. Fuck, it was just words, and he could always deny he’d
said them. But he wasn’t sure what he’d do if Hunter demanded some
kind of proof. Or, God forbid, if Hunter ever asked Matt outright.
“Maybe.” Hunter looked pensive, but then his attention turned to a
younger kid who walked toward them from the other side of the
cafeteria. The kid wore skinny jeans and headphones hanging loosely
around his neck. His eyes were nervous, and his posture was twitchy.
But he stared at Hunter with an expression that was grimly resolute.
“Um…” The kid walked around to behind Hunter’s shoulder and
leaned in to mutter in his ear. “You didn’t call me after last weekend.
What gives?”
“Dude, not the fucking place,” Hunter said back to him, loudly
enough that the next table over heard. The kid blushed, and his eyes
went wide with panic. But then Hunter lowered his voice and said,
“Meet me on the west side of the lacrosse field at two.” He nodded
over Brooks’s way. “You wanna join us?”
The kid paled, his gaze darting to Brooks, then back to Hunter.
Shit. Brooks and Hunter had paired up with guys before on occasion,
but none who were freshman. And none who looked like this kid
did—like a nervous rabbit.
“No, thanks.” Brooks trained his attention on his food, unable to
meet the kid’s stare. He had no idea why the kid would seek Hunter
out if Hunter was being such a dick to him. But, he’d seen it over and
over with the guys Hunter slept with. Hunter would dick them over,
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67
and then they’d follow him around like ducklings. Some guys were
gluttons for punishment.
“Um, see you later.” The kid looked at Hunter hopefully, but since
Hunter was thumbing through something on his phone, he slumped
and wandered off.
Brooks glared at his friend. “You’re having him come by
practice? What, to suck you off?” Brooks knew Hunter liked to hook
up in places where he might get caught, and he even knew that
campus security turned a blind eye on it a couple times. But the
lacrosse team had a reputation to uphold, not to mention a strict
conduct policy.
“Please—as if no one else on the team ever gets blown out behind
the gym.” Hunter went back to his breakfast, seemingly immune to
Brooks’s annoyance.
Of course Brooks knew that some of the guys on the team did
stupid shit with their girlfriends. But those guys were straight. They’d
get in less trouble if they were caught fucking, and Hunter knew it.
“Dude, please tell me that kid is at least eighteen.” He almost
certainly was—unless he’d skipped a year of high school or
something. But Brooks wouldn’t put it past Hunter to sleep with the
one kid at Holsum who’d managed to get in early.
“So, what week were you thinking for that Hamptons trip this
summer?” Hunter asked, as if he hadn’t heard anything Brooks had
said.
Brooks ground his teeth. Hunter was playing him like a fiddle, but
that didn’t make it any less effective. He’d promised his mom he’d at
least try to arrange for Hunter to come out. His mom and dad were a
perfect team—his dad being on the board of directors of a major bank
and his mother acting as his unofficial public relations rep. “I was
thinking Fourth of July weekend.” The Prices always hosted a party
the day of the fireworks, and it was the event they threw that got the
most media coverage. Brooks knew it was the best time to impress the
Fords.
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“Ooh, not sure I can make it then. We always have a big thing on
the compound then.” Hunter’s family owned some huge, hidden
stretch of land somewhere in Texas. They guarded the place like a
fortress, inviting only presidential hopefuls and CEOs to visit. Though
Hunter kept dropping hints that if Brooks played his cards right, he
might be asked to visit.
Brooks was getting sick of Hunter dangling an invitation over his
head. “Well, you could come out in late August. The water’s nice
then, but people start heading back to work after the twentieth.” He
assumed that if Hunter was going to be in the exclusive area, he might
want to hit some of the social events or do a little networking himself,
but Hunter just waved his hand. “Eh, doesn’t matter to me.”
Hunter started texting. Brooks waited for a solid minute,
expecting Hunter to say something more about the trip, but Hunter
seemed to have forgotten about the conversation now that he had
made Brooks heel.
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Chapter Seven
“C’mon. Just this one time?” Brooks tightened his grip around
Matt’s waist, giving him a good-natured wrestle.
Matt lay on top of him, fully clothed, which was the only reason
he was letting Brooks still touch him. They only had an hour between
classes, and he’d been planning on doing what they normally did
together to make love, but he could tell from the gleam in Brooks’s
eyes that Brooks wasn’t going to go along placidly that day.
“Why? Don’t you like it?”
Brooks lifted his head off the bed to give Matt a kiss. He wrapped
his legs around Matt’s thighs and ground his hips up. “’Course I do.”
Brooks grinned. Then he nuzzled Matt’s neck, right under his jaw.
“But I want to do you a little, if you’re up for it.” His voice was
seductive and sweet, the temptation of it niggling under Matt’s skin to
sink into his belly.
Matt frowned. He hadn’t given much thought lately to the fact that
Brooks wasn’t generally a passive guy, since he was enjoying what
they did when they were alone together so much. And Brooks always
seemed to enjoy himself. But if Matt stopped to consider it, he knew
he should really try to let Brooks touch and kiss him more. He
couldn’t keep Brooks tied up in imaginary binds forever. Nor did he
want to.
“Well…” Matt knew he had more control now—over his
responses and impulses. Regular orgasms with Brooks had made him
a lot more confident. “I guess.”
“S’okay. Don’t worry about it.” Brooks rolled onto his back and
hooked his hands around Matt’s headboard. He smiled as he did it—
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like he was trying to lighten the mood or show Matt that he wasn’t
upset that Matt didn’t want to experiment. “Whatever you want is
fine.”
Matt looked down at his grinning lover, his chest so full of feeling
he could hardly breathe. He liked Brooks so much, and really wanted
to get over his reluctance for him. “No.” Matt eased Brooks’s hands
out from under the headboard and urged them back around his waist.
It felt good—comfortable and loving. Like he’d always wished he
could be with a boyfriend. “No, let’s do it this way.”
Brooks tilted his head, and narrowed his eyes. “It’s really okay?”
“Yeah.” Matt kissed him quickly. “Yeah, it’s good.”
“Oh, really?” Brooks winked, then hitched a leg over Matt’s hip
and flipped Matt onto his back. “How about this?” He lowered his lips
to Matt’s, taking control of their kiss. Brooks alternated nips on his
top and bottom lip with slow weaving together of their tongues. Matt
liked it because it felt predictable, and because he could tell Brooks
liked being in charge for once.
Brooks moaned as they kissed, thrust his hips into Matt’s belly,
and wiggled when Matt stroked a hand up his side.
With eager fingers, Brooks fed his hand under the waistband of
Matt’s khakis. He didn’t move to take Matt’s pants off, though. It was
as if he wanted to let Matt decide when he was going to unfasten his
button. His hand closed over Matt’s dick—warm and firm. At the
wrong angle, but Matt liked that, because Brooks strained to jerk him
off, like his hand was trapped, but he didn’t dare ask Matt to make
things easier.
Matt fed his hands between them and unfastened his pants. With
jerky movements, he unbuckled Brooks’s belt and tugged open his
fly. The pair of them jostled and kicked until they both got their pants
to their knees. Matt sighed as they wove their legs together, their hips
so close they couldn’t even get a hand between them.
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Brooks straightened onto his arms—strong and handsome and
more perfect than Matt deserved. “How about adding lube or
something?”
“Hm?” Matt pulled Brooks’s hips down onto his own, grinding
into the increased pressure. He could get off just with what they were
doing, though Matt did remember how nice it always felt to slide into
cum when they were finishing. “I guess,” he said. “But I don’t have
any.”
“No worries.” Brooks nipped his top lip, and then bounded up off
the bed. He tugged up his jeans before slipping into the hall. In no
time, he reappeared at the door and launched on top of Matt. In his
hand, he held a small bottle.
“Did you get that out of Gabe’s room?” Matt fought a wave of
revulsion and anger. He wound his hand into the sheets to stop from
launching out of the bed. “Oh, God, did you remember because
you’d—”
“No.” Brooks put his hand across Matt’s mouth, stopping him
from talking. He pinned Matt in what might have been a wrestling
move so that Matt couldn’t throw him off. “I never fucked Gabe. Hell,
I’d never even been into his room before. I just figured he’d have
some.”
Matt forced his nerves to settle, the tension in his muscles
releasing a fraction. “Yeah, I know, you told me already…”
Brooks pecked a kiss on his cheek, then rubbed a slower one over
his lips. “It’s fine.” He humped into Matt’s hip, causing Matt’s
erection to ache. “But stop being jealous, okay? I never even kissed
the guy.”
Matt knew Brooks was right. If he gave into his jealousy, he’d
spend all his time fuming. Forget Kevin Bacon, there were only two
degrees of separation between a gay man and someone who had slept
with Brooks. “I know…” Matt tried not to let his mind wander to
what else the little bottle had been used for, but when Brooks opened
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it, he had to fiddle off a foil cover to the top, so Matt realized it must
have been new.
“Here…” Brooks squeezed a dollop of lubricant directly onto
Matt’s cock. Matt would have thought it would be cold, but he didn’t
really feel it. But then Brooks lowered onto him, their dicks brushed
and spread slippery lube between them, and Matt felt like every nerve
ending in his dick came alive.
“Holy shhhhh…” Matt hissed. He grabbed hard onto Brooks’s
hips, his fingers gripping tight. Matt used his leverage to work Brooks
against him, their bodies twisting and straining, every inch of their
skin touching and scraping and rubbing, and the whole time it was
wet…so wet and hot. And Brooks’s cock was hard as a rock next to
Matt’s and just as insistent.
“D’you want to do that between my legs?” Brooks whispered
between their thrusts.
But Matt just shook his head. No. It was too good to stop. With a
snarl, he rolled them over so that he was on top again, and Matt
rubbed hard into Brooks’s groin, the friction harsher now that the lube
had spread and absorbed a little. He reached down and grabbed
Brooks’s cock and his own, pumping them together. Matt bent his
head to Brooks’s ear, and before he could stop himself, he growled.
“Shut up and come, bitch.”
Brooks gasped and wrapped his ankles over Matt’s hips. He
shook, bucking into Matt’s hand, and in three thrusts, he shot jets of
seed onto Matt’s chest, onto his own chest, all over Matt’s hand. And
Matt fought a searing desire to demand Brooks lick it off—lick all of
it off and then get on his knees and suck Matt until he came.
Disturbing as the image was, it set a fire in Matt’s guts and
twisted his belly in knots. His dick became almost unbearably
sensitive, so that Matt could only tug on his shaft. Matt sprayed cum
as high as Brooks’s neck. He arched his hips forward in an attempt to
get it to Brooks’s mouth, though he didn’t want to admit it.
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Matt dropped onto his side, careful not to crush Brooks with his
weight, but also needing to think. He reached for the table by his bed
and pulled some tissues out of the pack. He kissed Brooks’s forehead
as he handed him some, but his mind was spinning.
Shit. He couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. Matt had lost
control. And yeah, it was only for that split second, but he hated
himself for it. He wanted to love Brooks, to be loved in return. Not
treat him like a filthy slut—the way his torrid imagination wanted.
“Wow.” Brooks rolled onto his side and smiled, oblivious to
Matt’s frantic thoughts. “That was unexpected.” There was a naughty
gleam to his eyes.
“Uh, yeah.” Matt wasn’t sure what to say. He felt like that person
he’d been a moment before was crouching back into a hidden part of
himself, where —hopefully—it would stay trapped.
Brooks scooted up the bed and pressed a kiss on Matt’s mouth.
“Now I really wanna blow you.”
The words shot want through Matt’s body so that he started
getting hard again even though he hadn’t gone fully soft. “I have to
get to class.” He bounded off the bed, grabbing his underwear and
pants off the floor as he went.
“You’re not mad, are you?” Brooks pushed onto his elbows.
When Matt didn’t answer right away, he lifted to sitting. “Seriously. I
thought it was kinda hot.”
Matt shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to reassure
Brooks, and that made him feel even worse than he already did. “It’s
nothing. I’m just late.”
“Okay.” Brooks curled out of bed and starting putting on his
clothes. His eyes were wary. “I’ll walk you there.”
“You don’t have to do that.” If Brooks kept looking at him with
that caring expression, Matt knew he’d fall back into bed with the
guy. Probably do more things that made him hate himself. So Matt
grabbed his book bag off the floor while Brooks was still trying to
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find his shirt. Scowling at his own cowardice, Matt reached for the
doorknob. “Just lock the door when you go.”
“Wait.” Brooks grabbed Matt’s wrist. “We’re okay, right?” He
searched Matt’s face, his blue eyes nervous.
Matt knew he had to say something. “Yeah, we’re good.” He
pulled Brooks close enough to press a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see
you tonight, okay?”
Brooks nodded, though he looked uncertain. But Matt had nothing
more to give. He was too wrapped up in his own roiling emotions. So
he forced a wan smile as he escaped out the door.
* * * *
“Have you gotten a firm date yet?” His mom’s voice was chipper.
Brooks looked at his watch. It was seven thirty. So she’d had
enough time to get tipsy, but not belligerent. He’d chosen a good time
to call. “No. Hunter’s being coy about it. But I’m pretty sure Fourth
of July isn’t going to work.”
“No? Why not?” His mother’s tone shifted to something more
harsh. Maybe she’d had more to drink than he calculated.
“They have a party at his family’s place. You know how busy
people get on the Fourth.” It was ridiculous for his mom to think
someone like Hunter Ford would be able to drop everything and stay
at his summerhouse that weekend. Sometimes his mother had an
overblown sense of his family’s importance. “He’s thinking maybe
the end of August.” Brooks dragged a piece of paper across the bed to
where he was sitting. He doodled in the margins, drawing irate faces
and cartoons flipping the finger just to distract him from the phone
call.
“Oh.” She sighed dramatically. “Well, I would have thought he’d
want to come out sooner than that, considering you two are together.”
Brooks scribbled over his first crummy drawing, then sketched an
image of Matt. Not Matt the way he normally looked, but in bondage
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75
gear and leather. He smiled at the picture, thinking of Matt’s face if he
ever saw it. “I’ve told you, Mom, it’s not like that with me and
Hunter. Just because we’re both—”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” His mother rarely let him say the word gay
out loud. For someone so intent on using her son’s sexual orientation
to her advantage, she was surprisingly homophobic. “You’re a very
good-looking boy. I can’t imagine he’s not interested.”
Brooks scribbled a flogger into cartoon-Matt’s fist, trying to
distance himself from the conversation. Of course Hunter was
interested. But though Brooks had hooked up with Hunter on
occasion, he would never consider dating him for real. Even when
they first met, he knew he’d never do more than blow the guy in the
back room of a party. Hunter already had him by the balls,
figuratively. He didn’t need to make that literally, too.
“It’s such a blessing in disguise, you both being…the way you
are. And in college at the same time. Really, Brooks, you’re wasting
the tuition we’re paying if you don’t take advantage of the situation.”
“I’m seeing someone. So, it’s not like Hunter is an option right
now.” He hadn’t planned to mention Matt to his mother, of all people,
but it just slipped out. Maybe because he needed an excuse to get her
off his back.
“Really? Who is he?”
Brooks knew she didn’t mean “describe him to me.” She meant,
“What country clubs do his parents belong to, and can they get me a
membership?”
“He’s from near Fargo, and his dad is a minister.”
“Oh, so he’s nobody.”
Brooks didn’t know how to respond. That was just how his
mother saw the world. Either people had something you wanted, or
they weren’t worth noticing. He’d never really considered before
what a horrible way that was to look at people.
“Listen, I need to get back to studying for my LSATs.” Practice
tests littered his bed, though the exam was still months away. Brooks
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needed a good score to get into the MBA program he planned to do
during his first year working at Coldman Bank. Sure, he had
connections. But no amount of phone calls to the dean would get him
in if his scores weren’t stellar.
“Of course. I’ll let you go. Just tell me when you have a date for
Hunter to come out and visit. I have to organize extra housekeeping
ages in advance with the new service.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.” He set down the phone on his dresser and
finished his picture. He poured his annoyance into drawing Hunter,
bent over and hog-tied in front of bondage-Matt. By the time he was
done, he felt marginally better.
Brooks crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash. Then he
started another picture—this one just of Matt’s face. Brooks normally
doodled comics, but this one was more serious. Matt’s square jaw, the
shape of his eyes, the lump in his throat that always rose and fell
when he was nervous. Brooks’s thoughts returned to how Matt had
looked earlier that day after they’d gotten off together.
He had assumed Matt was cool with what they were doing. But
now he didn’t know. Maybe he was hurting Matt in some way by
pushing for things to go further. Maybe he was chasing after the thing
he wanted without giving any thought to the person he was getting it
from.
Maybe Brooks was being the person his mother had made him—
selfish, and an asshole. And he didn’t want to be that guy. At least,
not with Matt. He loved holding hands with him, and talking to him,
just walking around campus between classes. And if having sex—
even the proto-sex that they were toying with—upset Matt, then
Brooks didn’t want to do it anymore. Matt was more important to him
than that.
As he shaded the area under Matt’s eyes, Brooks’s heart beat
faster. He knew something was shifting for him, something major. For
maybe the first time in his life he was going to give up something he
wanted for someone else. And he couldn’t believe how good it felt.
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He liked Matt. Really, more than liked him. Matt was his. And he
was Matt’s. Nothing about that was about sex.
A knock sounded at the door, and Brooks knew it was Matt.
They’d made a habit out of meeting at Matt’s house between classes
but at Brooks’s in the evening, so Brooks figured at least Matt was
still coming over. He dragged open the door, brimming with the need
to tell Matt about his new revelation. “Hi, I—”
“Wait.” Matt glanced at the floor. He wore baggy khakis and a
striped T-shirt. His shoes were horrible.
But that didn’t matter. Brooks was still thrilled to see him.
“C’mon in, I want to tell you…”
“No. I won’t be able to say it if we start kissing. So I have to
now.” Matt walked over to the desk and sat down in Brooks’s chair.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea.” Matt’s eyes darted to the
bedroom, leaving no question as to what he meant by “this.”
“I know.” Brooks crossed to where Matt was sitting and bent onto
his knees. He folded to sit on his lower legs, looking up into Matt’s
strong, Nordic face. Matt recoiled noticeably, as if he thought Brooks
was going to molest him. The action made Brooks smile. “I’ve been
doing some thinking…” Brooks touched Matt’s hand, feeling his
warmth. “Maybe we should lay off the sex for a while. Until you feel
more comfortable. Or maybe until we’ve been dating longer.”
“Really?” Matt raised a skeptical eyebrow. He stared into
Brooks’s eyes for a long moment before frowning. “You must think
I’m the biggest loser.”
“No.” Brooks wove their fingers together. He hated seeing Matt
upset—seeing him shut down and fold in on himself. Brooks wanted
to drag him out again, any way he could. “I don’t. I think you’re
awesome. And that you’re worth waiting for.”
“You do?”
Brooks almost laughed at the incredulous look on Matt’s face.
Matt seemed younger when he was confused. Almost like he was still
in his teens. “Of course.” Brooks pulled Matt’s hand a little, so he
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could cradle it in his own. “You’re cool, and sweet, and…” He’d
never really thought about it before, but maybe it was at the heart of
why he’d fallen for Matt. “And you make me a better person. You let
me be a better person.”
Matt’s face was impassive as ever, but a smile crinkled, just
slightly, the corner of his eyes. “Brooks…” Matt flushed with color.
“You know I’ve always wanted you, right?” He chuckled, a low,
rumbling noise that Brooks felt more than heard. “But I don’t know if
I can do this.” Again, his attention shifted to the bedroom.
“Why?” Brooks asked. “You’ve got that summer internship in
New York, and we can live together when I start my job. We’ve got
plenty of time to get physical later if you don’t want to now.”
“I want to do things to you.” Matt raised his voice. “Stuff I
wouldn’t like myself for doing.” He launched out of the chair, pacing
the length of the room. “Even if we were married, for God’s sake.”
He paused his marching to stare up at the ceiling. “Especially if we
were married. How could I want to hurt you? I lo—” Matt froze. “I
didn’t mean to say that.”
Slowly, so as not to freak Matt out, Brooks stood and eased closer.
“Matt…” He reached for Matt’s hand, but when Matt just flinched
away, Brooks asked, “Honey?”
Matt fisted his hands at his sides, as if he had to work to resist
grabbing Brooks’s hand. “I gotta go.”
Brooks dashed ahead of him to the door. “What the fuck, man?”
He reached behind him to twist the lock. “You’re not fucking leaving
until we talk this shit out.”
“I can’t.” Matt threw his hands up. “I can’t do this, Brooks. I—”
“Shut up.” Brooks crossed to him, knowing he’d be able to beat
the slower Matt to the door if necessary. He thanked his lucky stars
he’d spent so much time practicing sprints. Brooks grabbed Matt’s
face, trying to land a kiss. But when Matt yanked away, Brooks
shouted, “What? Now I can’t even kiss you?”
Matt scowled.
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“You’re not going to hurt me.” Brooks got up in his face, so close
their chests were nearly touching. To his surprise, Matt didn’t back
down.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.” Brooks reached for Matt’s leg and caught his thigh
for a squeeze before Matt shoved him off.
“I’m six five.” Matt slouched as if he could make himself smaller.
As if Brooks would want him to.
Brooks took another step forward, measuring Matt with his eyes.
“Dude, I know.” He gave an experimental push on Matt’s chest,
smiling when Matt fought not to fall back. “And you seriously think
you could take me?” He’d meant it as a tease—nothing more—but
Matt’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw slid forward.
He growled. “Don’t push me.” Other than glaring at Brooks with a
stern expression, he didn’t move.
“Really? Why not?” Brooks shoved him again, this time annoyed.
He’d put up with a lot from Matt—played along with his sex games,
patiently worked through his issues. Fuck, Brooks had been willing to
give up sex for the guy. And now Matt was backing out because he
was scared?
Well, fuck him. Brooks was scared, too. He didn’t do nice shit for
people. He didn’t give up what he wanted for people. And he
certainly didn’t put up with people taking his generosity and tossing it
out like a piece of trash. “Why shouldn’t I push you?” He shoved
again, this time hard enough that Matt reacted by leaning forward, his
chest growing and his scowl more intense.
But still, Matt wasn’t talking or moving, so Brooks tried again. He
launched onto him, grabbing his shoulders, trying to wrestle him onto
the ground.
Matt twisted, dragging Brooks as they went so that they fell onto
the couch in a messy jumble. “Jesus, Brooks.” He grabbed Brooks’s
arms, forcing them behind Brooks’s back. “Stop it.”
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Brooks threw his weight forward, breaking Matt’s grip. “Fuck,
no.” It felt too damn good to be touching Matt, as hard as he wanted,
even if they were fighting. “Not ’til you give.” He spun and hooked
Matt behind the shoulders, dragging him off the couch and onto the
floor where Brooks landed on top of him with a thud. He took the
chance to grind his hard-on into Matt’s leg, snarling when he felt
Matt’s own at his hip.
“You don’t know,” Matt spat. He grabbed Brooks by the hair,
wrenching him off and rolling so that Matt landed on top. When
Brooks wrapped his legs around Matt’s hips, Matt reared back and
tossed Brooks onto his belly like a sack of potatoes. Brooks could
have fought him on that maneuver, but Matt’s aggression was getting
him too hot.
Yeah, this was what Brooks wanted, what he needed from Matt.
Fuck if he was going to let Matt run away. Brooks was facedown on
the floor with Matt pressing his cheek into his shag carpeting. He
arched so his ass would push up into Matt’s groin. “So why don’t you
tell me, tough guy?”
Matt stilled, and Brooks felt his grip loosen even as Matt’s
fingernails bit harder into his arm. It was like the fight was going out
of him, and Matt curled downward until he rested his chin on
Brooks’s shoulder. “I’m so ashamed,” Matt whispered into Brooks’s
back.
Brooks felt tears forming, and he swallowed hard, shocked at his
sudden rush of emotion. He might not have grown up with the general
prohibitions against sex that Matt had, but he understood feeling
guilty, embarrassed, and—yes—even ashamed of what he wanted to
do in bed. “Yeah.” It was the only comfort he could give. “I know.”
He felt Matt soften at his back, rubbing his thumb along Brooks’s
spine. But Matt didn’t talk for a minute, and Brooks—lost in his own
thoughts—stayed silent. He’d accepted that he wanted to have sex
with men way before he could admit to himself that he was gay. But
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81
he could understand how for Matt the label might have been an easier
cross to bear than the actual sex acts.
Still, Brooks couldn’t let Matt give up everything between them.
Not for something as stupid as misplaced shame. “So, what are you
going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” Matt tensed. “I don’t know how to stop feeling
this way.” He moved to get up, but Brooks caught his leg and flipped
to get Matt on his back.
Straddling him, Brooks cupped Matt’s neck—not to choke the
guy, but to get his undivided attention. “Just go with it, man. Keep
doing the type of stuff we’re doing and see if you stop feeling guilty
after a while.” That’s what had worked for Brooks in high school.
At first, he could barely look at himself in the mirror after he’d
done something with a boy. But he found that the more he hooked up,
the less often the self-loathing caught him in its grip. Maybe that’s
why he’d hooked up so often.
“I guess.” Matt sounded unsure. He relaxed into the carpet,
roaming his hands up and down Brooks’s thighs—as if, even thinking
about leaving, Matt couldn’t stop touching him. “I don’t know if I’m
supposed to tell you the things I think about doing, or whether I
should go with it and assume you’ll tell me to stop if you don’t like it.
I know you said you prefer—”
“Shh.” Brooks rubbed Matt’s chest, getting turned on now that
they were groping more than fighting. “Forget I said that, okay?”
“But I want you to enjoy it, too.” Matt’s olive gaze was earnest,
and a little scared.
Brooks grinned, palming Matt’s ribs, scooting to touch him lower.
“Seriously, man. It’s not like I’ve hated it the times I’ve bottomed. I
just didn’t make a habit out of it. And anyway, we don’t even have to
have anal.”
Matt closed his eyes and bit his lip. He thrust up into Brooks’s
balls. “Yeah, that’s what Gabe says. But it’s not just that.”
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“Okay.” Brooks nibbled Matt’s neck, trying to sound playful and
not nervous. He was really hoping Matt wasn’t going to say he was
into scat or piss play. There weren’t too many things Brooks wasn’t
up for, but even he had his limits. He murmured in Matt’s ear, “So
why don’t you tell me?”
“Fine.” Matt gripped Brooks’s hips extra hard. He rushed to
whisper, “I want to smack you. And come in your mouth. Beat your
ass and cheeks hot and red and not let you come…” Matt took a shaky
breath, as if he were getting himself back under control. Then he
added, “Oh, and fuck you.”
Brooks grinned, rubbing his hands up Matt’s shirt to feel Matt’s
smooth chest. Really, Matt’s interests were pretty run-of-the-mill
kink. He could see how someone with Matt’s upbringing would be
conflicted, but all the guy really needed was to read a few BDSM
guides. He was just about to say so when Matt cut him off, grabbing
Brooks’s hands.
“I want to say mean things to you.” Matt gazed at him with steady
eyes, and Brooks understood that this part was what bothered Matt the
most. “It’s like these words pop into my head. Horrible things, stuff I
would never, ever say to a person. Especially not to you. But they get
me so hard, and I don’t think I can stop myself.”
“Huh.” Brooks considered it for a second, though he stayed seated
across Matt’s hips. He wracked his mind for what Matt could say to
him in the heat of passion that would actually hurt his feelings. “I
probably wouldn’t want you to call me ‘faggot.’”
“Oh.” Matt’s face screwed up in confusion, as if he had never
even considered the word. “I wouldn’t do that.”
That made Brooks feel somewhat better. “Okay.” He considered
what else might be off-limits. With a shrug, he said, “I probably don’t
want you saying my dick is small, either.” Brooks knew it wasn’t, but
he didn’t think he’d get off in a sexual situation where someone
wanted to insult his junk.
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Matt cracked a smile. “It never occurred to me.” Then with a little
eye roll, he said, “It’s not, anyway. I don’t know why you’d even
worry about it.”
The mood between them lightened enough that Brooks bent to
press more kisses onto Matt’s neck. He stroked Matt’s arm. “Well, I
can’t think of too many other things that would really piss me off.
Why don’t you just go with it and I’ll let you know if it gets out of
hand?” Brooks thought about the tidbits of stuff he’d heard about safe
words and hard limits, but he didn’t want to freak Matt out by
bringing all that up. Not when Matt had been ready to bolt over a
single growled curse word.
“Really?” Matt rubbed his hands fitfully over Brooks’s waist, his
thighs, his chest. His movements grew jerky, more aggressive.
Brooks sat up and rubbed his ass on Matt’s dick. “Really, you’re
not going to hurt me.” He wove his touch up into Matt’s hair,
scrubbing his scalp, showing Matt his strength.
Matt’s eyes fell to half lidded, and he made a noise from his chest
that sounded like a purr. Slowly, Matt shifted, and with shaking
fingers, he cupped Brooks’s face. “You sure?” His gaze was hard and
intense.
So serious that Brooks swallowed a lump in his throat. “Yeah, I’m
sure.” But the last word came out in a whoosh, because Matt grabbed
Brooks by the shoulders and wrestled him down to the floor.
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Chapter Eight
Before he could stop himself, Matt grabbed the back of Brooks’s
neck and yanked Brooks into a kiss—this one harder than any they’d
shared before. He scored Brooks’s lips with his teeth, plunged into his
mouth with his tongue. When Brooks tried to alter the angle of his
head, Matt slapped his cheek.
It wasn’t hard, but the sound filled the living room, leaving
nothing but Matt’s fear in its wake. Matt cupped Brooks’s face in his
hand and checked his expression, looking for anger, hurt—all the
things Matt worried Brooks would be feeling.
Brooks’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, his cheek red. He
looked so sexy that Matt wasn’t sure he could stop.
“M’fine.” Brooks pushed forward, trying to get another kiss. But
Matt didn’t let him.
“Really?”
“A little freaked out, I guess. But mostly turned on.” Then Brooks
lifted his head to get closer, his breaths quick. “Kiss me like that
again.” With a wry smile, he said, “Bitch.” He tried to wrestle off the
floor, though he seemed more intent on provoking Matt than actually
getting up.
Matt shoved him down, pinning his legs, and was rewarded by
Brooks’s eager groan. He nearly ripped Brooks’s sweatshirt getting it
over his head. Brooks helped—dragging his T-shirt higher. And then
Brooks was shirtless, squirming underneath him on the carpet. Matt
loved that Brooks was strong and muscular. It wouldn’t be anywhere
near as arousing to dominate someone smaller.
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The thought stopped him long enough that Matt slowed their
kisses. There was that word—dominate. That was what he wanted to
do. He’d never really thought about what that meant before.
“What the matter?” Brooks asked between gasps.
Matt just shook his head. He grabbed Brooks’s wrists, stretching
them over his head. Then Matt bucked into him, crushing his dick into
Brooks’s thigh. All the while, he worked his mouth down Brooks’s
neck—biting the tense muscles, sucking the hollow right above his
collarbone. When he got to Brooks’s nipple, he caught it between his
teeth.
“Whoa.” Brooks arched, his forehead crumpled. “That’s…a little
hard.” Matt would have thought Brooks’s complaint would have just
made him want to get more aggressive. But he was glad and surprised
to find that it had the opposite effect. Maybe it was because he was
holding Brooks down, but he found that he didn’t want to bite him
harder. Instead, Matt lapped a few times until Brooks squirmed. And
then, slowly, he took the tip of Brooks’s nipple between his teeth.
With gentle determination, he tugged that sensitive tip in little
jerks away from Brooks’s body, until Brooks was bucking his hips off
the floor, working his hard cock into Matt’s belly.
“Take your pants off.” Matt reared back to let Brooks maneuver.
But while Brooks shimmied his jeans all the way off his ankles, Matt
only opened his pants enough to get out his dick. He watched Brooks
lie back on the ground and arrange himself, completely naked. And it
felt so completely right for Matt to still be wearing clothes. “You are
such a slut,” he said without thinking.
Brooks’s eyes widened with surprise, then lit up with desire. He
didn’t say anything, which Matt appreciated. He worried he might
want to slap Brooks again if he got any back talk.
“Here.” Matt kneeled across Brooks’s chest, thrusting his erection
at Brooks’s mouth. “You said you wanted to suck it, right?”
Brooks nodded eagerly, hitching a hand behind his head to
support his neck and lifting off the floor far enough to lick at Matt’s
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cap. He hummed like he liked it, so Matt leaned forward, angling his
dick to fit between Brooks’s lips.
“You’re going to swallow it deeper than you did all those other
guys.” Matt grabbed a throw pillow that had fallen off the couch and
shoved it under Brooks’s head. Then he balanced his weight with a
hand on the armrest and eased forward. Brooks’s mouth was open, his
tongue lapping, so Matt flexed his hips, pushing his shaft into that
perfect heat and wetness. He kept going until he felt resistance, and
then held still, watching Brooks’s eyes for fear, his nose to see if he
was struggling to breathe.
“Can you take more?”
Brooks’s lips were stretched taut, but Matt could still make out his
tiny nod. Then Brooks took a slow breath, and Matt pressed in just a
little farther.
His dick felt amazing, clamped in tight heat. Matt tucked his hips
back enough to give Brooks a chance to breathe before arching
forward again.
Brooks made a strangled noise and reached for the base of Matt’s
dick. He wrapped his fingers around the part his mouth couldn’t
reach, pumping Matt in short pulls, so that between his mouth and his
hand, he was working the entire length. The whole time he moaned
out appreciative little sounds, so hot Matt wanted to bottle the noise—
record it so he could listen to it all day.
Brooks bucked, and Matt peeked over his shoulder to find that
Brooks was erect and dripping pre-cum, thrusting into air.
“Did you come while you were blowing the other guys?” Matt
thrust into Brooks’s mouth in short bursts, not far enough to make
Brooks deep-throat him again, but with enough speed and friction to
get close to orgasm.
“Mm mm,” Brooks moaned, shaking his head “no.”
Matt could tell from the crease between his eyebrows that
Brooks’s jaw was hurting, so he pulled out to give him a break.
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Brooks swung around his jaw, then closed his mouth to swallow.
After a few quick breaths, he nodded again, inviting Matt with his
eyes.
“You’re so good.” Matt cupped Brooks’s head and fed his cock
into his mouth again. And this time he didn’t wait to savor it. Matt
pumped inside, chasing his orgasm deeper and deeper into that perfect
tunnel. He could tell that Brooks was struggling to keep up, because
his mouth got wetter, but Brooks groaned around Matt’s cock like
he’d never been more turned on in his life, and the sound of those
gasps and moans was enough.
Matt’s belly filled with fire, and his dick thickened between
Brooks’s lips. The pulsing started in the base and echoed up his shaft
until he was shaking, thrusting his cum into Brooks’s throat. The only
thing stopping him from choking Brooks was Brooks’s fist, locked
like a vise around Matt’s base.
Brooks couldn’t seem to swallow it all, because cum bubbled out
the corner of his mouth, dribbling down his cheek. It was the sexiest
thing Matt could imagine.
With a sigh, Matt pulled out. He rolled onto his side, and Brooks
was on top of him in a second, kissing cum into Matt’s mouth,
humping Matt’s pant leg, whispering a string of, “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck,
oh, fuck…”
“You gonna go?” Matt asked, though he knew the answer. Lord, it
felt so delicious being sated and calm while Brooks was losing his
mind.
“Yeah.” Brooks tried to kiss Matt again, but Matt pushed him
away.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
“No. I’m too close,” Brooks whined.
Matt flipped him over, wrestling Brooks into the position he
wanted. When Brooks didn’t move fast enough, he swatted him
across the ass. This time it didn’t sound all that loud, nor did Matt
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have any qualms about smacking him again when Brooks wiggled.
“Okay. Now you can jerk off.”
He got behind Brooks, reveling in the sight of him on his knees,
one hand holding him up while the other worked furiously under his
body. Brooks was a warm tan color all over, like he used a tanning
bed. The tone highlighted his physique so that he looked like a model,
or a porn star. Unable to resist, Matt cupped Brooks’s butt cheeks,
feeling the warmth and the hard curve of it.
Brooks pushed back against him, shifting his hips like he was
trying to move Matt’s touch where he wanted. “You gonna fuck me?”
he asked. Matt could tell he was nervous.
“No.” Matt swiped his tongue across his thumb, getting it wet.
Then he grabbed Brooks’s ass with one hand, and pressed his other
thumb into Brooks’s hole.
The effect was instantaneous, with Brooks bucking onto Matt’s
hand, shivering and pumping his arm so fast it was a blur. And then
Brooks’s asshole clenched on his thumb. Brooks shouted, holding still
to rub out the last of his orgasm. Matt watched Brooks’s shoulders
flex while he climaxed, the movements like poetry written on
Brooks’s body.
“Oh, God.” Brooks fell forward, wiggling to avoid the wet spot.
He grabbed Matt’s arm and wrapped it around himself, pulling Matt
into a spoon where Brooks was in front with Matt to his back. “Oh,
my fucking God, that was good.” He breathed hard, the sound of it
like tiny moans.
They stayed like that for a long moment, and though Matt’s mind
was full of questions, he felt too good to ask any of them. All he knew
was that Brooks was curled happily against him, making content
sounds. Eventually, Brooks cocked his head around for a kiss.
“Wow. I’m thirsty,” Brooks said. He shifted as if he would get up,
but Matt caught his arm and pulled him up onto the couch. He
snuggled him some more. “I’ll get it.” Matt rolled to standing. He
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89
wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to take care of Brooks. Wait on him
like a prince until they were ready to fool around some more.
“Really? Aw, you’re the best.” Brooks flopped so he lay down on
the couch. He dragged an afghan over his shoulder. Like the rest of
Brooks’s apartment, his couch was off-white and luxurious. “Hurry
back.” Brooks looked so handsome it was all Matt could do not to
launch back into his arms.
Matt scanned the room for a cup, but he didn’t see one, so he
fastened his pants and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass from
the cabinet and twisted the faucet. There was a window right above
the sink and Matt could just about make out some people talking next
door. Without really meaning to, he listened harder.
“Dude, I can’t believe Brooks’s still seeing that loser.” The voice
carried through the screened window above the sink.
Matt blinked and considered walking away. That was what he
really should have done—no good came of listening in, ever. But he
couldn’t seem to leave his spot. He turned off the water and strained
to hear.
“Yeah, pathetic. And he’s totally dick whipped, too. He didn’t
even want to fuck that twink with me the other day. When they break
up I’m going to fuck his face extra hard, just to get the taste of that
yeti out of his mouth.”
Raucous laughter carried through the window, making Matt’s
cheeks heat and his pulse race. He gripped the counter, trying to quell
his temper.
“Someone must be packing some serious meat. Wonder if he’s
given it to Brooks yet.” The voice belonged to Hunter Ford. Matt
didn’t know the guy well, but he’d heard him often enough to have
recognized it.
The guy Hunter was talking to made some obscene noises—a
caricature of how Brooks had sounded only a few minutes earlier—
and Matt’s hands balled into fists. He didn’t care that the guys were
talking trash about him. He had no illusions about what Hunter Ford
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thought about him. But Hunter was supposed to be Brooks’s friend.
Not his lover.
“I screwed up on that bet. Shoulda been a thousand to him if he
fucked Gigantor, but two thousand to me if Gigantor fucked him.”
Something touched Matt’s back, and he spun around.
“What’re you doing?” Brooks asked. But then he glanced at the
window, and his expression shifted to horrified. The guys on the
porch next door were still laughing, practically shouting about what
an idiot Brooks was and what a sap Matt was for not realizing Brooks
would only go out with him on a bet. The color slowly drained from
Brooks’s face.
“Um…I’m really sorry about them…”
Matt lifted his chin and walked out of the kitchen. He passed the
dining room table and retreated far enough into the living room that
someone wouldn’t be able to hear through the front window. His
muscles bunched and rage boiled under his skin, but he forced his
voice to stay calm.
“So. This is where you confess that you only went out with me as
a joke?” Matt wasn’t entirely surprised. They’d both had
preconceived notions of each other before they started dating. And
perhaps Matt’s were as unfounded as Brooks’s. But the rest of it—
how Hunter thought Brooks was his. And that he’d get Brooks back
after Brooks was done with Matt. That part felt like fire burning a
hole through his heart.
“Yeah, sorta.” Brooks looked everywhere but Matt—at the floor,
the walls, the ceiling. “I mean, it did start out that way.” Suddenly,
Brooks pinned Matt with his gaze, his eyes wet. “But you gotta know
I care about you. I…I think I love you. I didn’t know you back then. I
was an asshole.”
“Yeah.” Matt watched him intently, though he didn’t know what
he was looking for. “But what about now?” He pointed through the
apartment at the window. “You know he thinks you still belong to
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91
him. Like you’re…” Matt scraped his nails through his hair. “He
thinks you’re his.”
Brooks twitched. “I…” He looked at the floor. “Me and Hunter
were never together.”
“Like hell.” Matt shoved his arm—just a little, but it was enough
for Matt to recoil on himself for fear he might actually hit him. “Tell
me you’ve never slept with him.”
Brooks’s lip quivered like he was about to cry. “We hooked up a
couple times.” He must have noticed Matt’s scowl, because Brooks
threw his hands up. “We were never a couple. It was casual.”
Now it was Matt’s turn to feel his eyes fill up with tears. He didn’t
even know why. Brooks had been with so many men, Matt didn’t
know why it should matter about Hunter. But it did. “Does he know
you’re not going to hook up with him again?”
Brooks sniffled, his tears breaking free. “It’s complicated.” He
tossed up his hands, as if being friends with Hunter was something
completely out of his control. “You don’t know my parents, or my
life. I have to be friends with him. And it’s just easier if I pretend…”
“Are you serious?” This time, Matt shoved Brooks harder, so hard
that he fell back a step. Self-loathing filled him like a black void,
making Matt despise every fiber of his being, even as he couldn’t
seem to stop shouting. “You belong to me!”
Brooks swallowed, his blue eyes wide. He whispered, “I know.”
Matt shut his eyes, turning away. “Well, then you have to tell him
that.” He didn’t trust himself to be around Brooks. Hell, to be around
anybody. “I’m going to leave now.” When Brooks didn’t say
anything, Matt grabbed his backpack out of the corner and wrenched
open the door. It wasn’t until he got outside that he was able to look
back.
The apartment building was modern and high end. But Brooks
was watching Matt from the balcony, as if his housing complex was a
prison and Brooks had only just realized he was trapped.
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Chapter Nine
Brooks banged on Hunter’s door.
“What?” Hunter called from inside.
“Just open the fucking door.” Brooks fisted his hands, pressing his
fingernails into his skin, the hint of pain the only thing that might
channel his anger so he didn’t beat Hunter Ford into the ground.
“Geez, fine.” Hunter pulled the door open. Nonchalant, he said,
“What do you want?”
Brooks glared at him, but though he knew a thousand things he
wanted to say, he struggled to call out the one thing that might be
important. Mostly, he just wanted to throw a punch. “What…You…”
Brooks scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Matt heard that bullshit
you guys were saying just now. About the bet and shit.”
Hunter cracked the door wider, revealing his friend Stan and a few
other guys from the team. “So what? You’ve had plenty of time to get
off with him. He was gonna find out sometime.”
“You’re an asshole.”
Hunter cocked his head, like he’d spotted some weakness and was
pondering how to exploit it. “You actually like him, don’t you?”
“I already told you that,” Brooks bit out. He’d made it clear weeks
ago that he was going to see Matt. “We’re dating, in case you hadn’t
noticed. So I’d appreciate if you kept your commentary to yourself.”
“Oh, c’mon. I know you’re gonna keep your options open.”
Hunter’s lip curled up in one corner, and Brooks couldn’t tell if it was
a smile or a sneer. “You’re not a one-man man.”
Hunter stepped out of his door fully. He kept a foot between them,
but stood close enough Brooks knew his nearness was an invitation.
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“Don’t you wanna still fuck around?” Hunter glanced down
Brooks’s front, his gaze assessing. “I wouldn’t tell your giant.”
“You know I don’t wanna.” Brooks forced himself to hold his
ground, even though he wanted to step away.
“But you’ll sleep with that dork?” Hunter gestured out toward
campus with a jerk of his head.
Brooks shoved his chest, pushing Hunter off him with enough
force that Hunter’s breath rushed out. “Shut the fuck up about my
boyfriend.” When Hunter took a step forward, Brooks pushed him
again, this time harder, so that Hunter stumbled off balance and had to
grab the railing not to fall.
Hunter regained his footing with a slow calmness that bordered on
scary. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the railing,
smirking. “You’re not being very persuasive about New York in
July.” He knocked some imaginary dirt off his hands. “I don’t think
I’ll be coming out after all, Price.”
“Fuck you.” Brooks wanted to tear Hunter limb from limb, but
knew it would end up hurting him more than it did Hunter. Some guys
were untouchable. His mother had always told him that. And there
was a time when all Brooks had wanted was to be untouchable, too.
Well, now he knew better.
“I don’t want you anywhere near my house or my family.” Brooks
thought about it, considering that they lived next door to each other.
“Come to think about it, I don’t want you anywhere near me, either.”
“Hmm.” Hunter looked at Brooks’s door and how it was located
not five feet from his own. “How are you gonna swing that?”
Brooks took a step forward, enough they wouldn’t be overheard,
not even if the team was right inside Hunter’s door, listening in. “If
you don’t leave me alone, I’ll leak pictures on the internet of you
getting blown at that Eta Xi party last year.”
“Like that would matter,” Hunter said. But his eyes flickered
nervously. He was out to his family, and on campus. But as the son of
a senator, he was always at risk of being brought down by a scandal.
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“Try me.” Brooks hated using Hunter’s homosexuality as a
weapon. But Hunter wielded sex like a tool, using it to control and
hurt people—so it was only payback. Brooks was done being
Hunter’s bitch.
Hunter narrowed his eyes, but gave a little nod. “Fine. Like I
wanted to hang out with you or your loser boyfriend anyway.” He
stepped to his door, and then slammed it shut as he disappeared
inside.
Brooks went back into his apartment and fell onto the couch. He
seethed, staring at the wall between his apartment and Hunter’s. But
after a moment’s consideration, Brooks bounced up and grabbed
some water from the kitchen. Just being so close to his window pissed
him off, and he shut the thing lest he hear some stray bit of
conversation.
Brooks grabbed his phone. One-handed, he texted Matt.
Had it out w Hunter. Sorry I made u mad. Come back?
He settled onto the couch, watching his screen for a telltale blue
box. But none arrived. He gave it a little longer, even turning on the
TV and scrolling through a few channels. But after half an hour,
Brooks admitted to himself that Matt wasn’t going to text him back.
“Well, that sucks.” Brooks trudged into his room and stared at the
piles of practice tests and the homework fanned under those. He
should study. He should do a lot of things, but he couldn’t leave
things the way they were with Matt. Not even for the night.
Grabbing a sweatshirt off his chair, Brooks decided to head over
to Matt’s house. He shoved his wallet and his phone in his pocket and
hurried out of his apartment and down the steps before his neighbor
would have a chance to hear him passing.
The air was cool and fresh, and Brooks jogged instead of walking.
He bounced for a block or so before running in earnest. The pavement
felt good under his feet—hard and sure. His muscles sang with the
exertion, working off his anger at Hunter, at himself. When sweat
bloomed under his clothes, he dragged off his sweatshirt, and then his
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T-shirt as well. He hoped that showing off his body would distract
Matt from their fight.
He neared Matt’s house right as Matt’s roommate Sarah was
opening the door.
When she saw Brooks on the landing, she stopped short. “Oh, hey.
You here for Matt?” She’d met Brooks a few times when he and Matt
stopped by the house between classes.
“Yeah. He here?” Brooks kept his face angled in the porch light so
she wouldn’t see he was upset.
“Yeah, he’s inside.” Sarah bounced down the steps. “I was gonna
head to the Sappho house party tonight. You guys wanna come?”
“I’d forgotten about it.” Brooks was shocked. Normally, he knew
the schedule of every party on campus, especially the GLBT ones. It
was weird how he’d lost track of stuff like that. “But no. It’s late. Just
wanted to see Matt.” He jogged up her steps and checked the door,
which was unlocked. That was good—he wouldn’t have to count on
Matt to let him inside.
He closed the door quietly behind him. Brooks almost hoped Matt
was asleep. That way he could climb in behind him and snuggle while
Matt was calm and quiet. They’d never spent the night together, and
Brooks wanted to so badly that he thought he might die if he couldn’t,
especially after their fight.
On quiet feet, Brooks crept down the hall. Then he eased down
the handle and cracked the door to peek at Matt’s bed. He didn’t see
anyone. “Matt?” He opened the door and stepped through.
Someone grabbed him and slammed him face-first into the wall.
The air rushed out of him, and his cheek burned from the scrape of
plaster.
“What the fuck?” Brooks struggled, knowing it must be Matt
holding him, but unable to do anything with Matt’s weight against his
back and Matt’s hand pressed against his skull.
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“Brooks?” Matt released him with enough force to send Brooks
sailing onto the mattress. “What in the hell are you doing breaking
into my house?”
“The door was open.” Brooks rolled onto his back, trying to get
upright, but then Matt was on top of him, as if the heat and excitement
of grabbing Brooks was too much and he couldn’t stand to break their
connection.
“I could have killed you.” Matt scanned his face, like he was
searching for some kind of answer. But his eyes landed on the scrape
on Brooks’s cheek. “Shit. I can’t believe I did that.” But he didn’t
climb off. Instead, he thrust himself forward, as if he couldn’t get
enough of their closeness. Like the damage to Brooks’s skin got him
hot.
“M’okay.” Brooks’s cheekbone throbbed, but he wrapped his legs
around Matt, making sure his boyfriend couldn’t pull away. The idea
that he was wearing Matt’s mark on his face got Brooks so horny he
could barely breathe. “Fuck, man. Do me.”
For a split second, Matt looked like he was going to argue. His
jaw clenched, as if he was thinking. But then his eyelids dropped to
half lidded. “God, you bring out the worst in me.” He locked lips with
Brooks, crushing their mouths together in a harsh grind.
Their teeth clashed, and their tongues wrangled. Brooks ripped at
Matt’s shirt, dragging it over his head. Then he scored his nails down
Matt’s front, hard enough that Matt winced and grabbed Brooks’s
wrists and yanked them over his head.
“C’mon.” Brooks’s body sang to life, his cock pulsing hard
through his pants, and he felt Matt right there with him. He scissored
his legs over Matt’s sweatpants, trying to get them down.
In a burst of movement, Matt bounded off the bed and shoved off
his sweats and briefs. Then he ripped at Brooks’s clothes, tearing
seams to get them from Brooks’s body. Before Matt could fall on him
again, Brooks flipped onto his stomach.
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“No,” Matt gasped. But he landed right where Brooks had wanted
him, so that his cock pressed into Brooks’s crack and his hairy legs
wound between Brooks’s smoother ones. Matt ground into him, a
thick weight in his crease.
“God, I don’t know.” Matt’s body was two steps ahead of his
mind, because he wrapped a hand to Brooks’s front, gripping
Brooks’s cock, and stroking him in rough pulls.
Brooks crawled as best he could with Matt on top of him up to the
bedside table. Before Matt could argue, he dug out the lube and
condoms they’d been keeping there until they felt ready.
In a moment of hesitation from Matt, Brooks saw his chance and
he flipped onto his back. Then, tossing a leg over Matt’s hips, he
hauled them over—so he could straddle Matt’s torso and take control.
“Oh, God, oh, God.” Matt gripped Brooks’s hips. His cock
slapped at Brooks’s back. He pinched his eyes closed, like he was
struggling for control. But Brooks didn’t want to give him any. He
wanted Matt to just let it go—to do his worst and make Brooks thank
him for it after.
Brooks filled his hand with lube and reached behind to rub it into
his ass. Then with hurrying fingers, he rolled the condom onto Matt’s
cock and lifted to get it at his entrance.
“Brooks—” Matt shook his head in warning.
But Brooks didn’t heed. He took one relaxing breath and forced
himself down over the head of Matt’s cock. He shivered, wishing he’d
turned the lights out. His eyes were tearing from the stretch of it, and
he didn’t want Matt to know. Didn’t want to give him an excuse to
back down. He stroked his dick, feeling the hard weight of it in his
hand, the delicious feel of Matt invading him—just the tip filling him
wide.
Matt released a long breath—like a growl. His gaze was
determined as he pulled Brooks lower, dragging his hips down and
down. If he noticed Brooks’s discomfort, he didn’t seem to care. Or
maybe it just turned him on.
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“Wait…” Brooks pressed his hands on Matt’s chest, holding
himself up. Matt was huge, and Brooks regretted having started this
on his knees. “Can I get on my back?”
Matt nodded, but that serious expression never left his eyes. His
gaze bore into Brooks as he gently rotated them so that Brooks was on
his back. They disengaged in the process. When Brooks’s muscles
stopped protesting, he was about to say thanks, but Matt was on top of
him, his expression intent, and his cock forcing past Brooks’s rim.
“Slow…” Brooks tried to explain, but he wasn’t sure how much
Matt understood, because he just kept coming and coming, his cock
bigger than Brooks had remembered from when it was in his mouth.
Brooks hissed, trying not to wince. “I haven’t done it in a while.”
Still, his cock pulsed hard between their bodies.
Matt lifted onto his elbows. Fully seated in Brooks’s ass, he
looked down, studying Brooks’s face. He ran a thumb over the bruise
on Brooks’s cheek, his expression almost reverent. It was so intense
that Brooks opened his mouth to say something. But Matt rubbed
Brooks’s lips like he was wiping the words away.
“Sh…” Matt tucked his hips back, pulling almost all the way out,
then slid home. Before Brooks could breathe, he did it again, and
again. What Matt lacked in finesse, he more than made up for with
enthusiasm. He fucked like a steam engine, a nonstop, grunting grind.
It seared Brooks from the inside—almost too intense, but the pain
so sweet he didn’t want it to stop. Matt muttered obscenities the
whole time, calling Brooks a slut and a whore, saying he hated him.
But the words were like the sex—raw intensity. Brooks felt filled to
overflowing with Matt’s cock, with his emotions. When, after a series
of lightning-fast thrusts, Matt went still and shot inside him, Brooks
felt like he was absorbing all of it—Matt’s love and even his hate.
Brooks wanted both, because maybe he deserved it, and maybe Matt
just needed to let it out.
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Shivering, Matt lifted off Brooks’s body. He took only a second to
disengage and toss the condom, but then he climbed onto the bed,
between Brooks’s legs, and took Brooks into his mouth.
Brooks thrust up, bucking off the mattress. His orgasm was so
close he could taste it in his throat. And as his cock filled with cum,
he felt an answering ache in his ass, like Matt was still fucking him.
So sweet, he wanted to feel it forever.
“Oh, yeah. So goo—”
Matt shoved two fingers inside him, too roughly to be meant as
anything but “shut the fuck up.” But that was okay, because he
swallowed Brooks almost to the hilt, his mouth warm and perfect, and
his tongue ringing Brooks’s crown on every upswing.
Brooks bit his lip, trying to keep quiet. He writhed, gripping the
sheets, his dick so full it felt like the skin was too tight. Matt
murmured and hummed, the sound of it soothing, as if he were
saying, “Go on.” And Brooks arched, gasping a small cry. His dick
pulsed. Then his cock was bathed in his cum, even hotter because it
filled Matt’s mouth like a chalice.
Moaning, Matt nursed him all the way to flaccid. He ran his hands
up and down Brooks’s thighs the whole time, like he was petting and
coaxing the last of Brooks’s climax. Afterward, he laid his head on
Brooks’s hip and wrapped his arms around his waist, like a kid
begging something from a parent.
“I’m so sorry,” Matt whispered.
For a second, Brooks couldn’t answer. He’d been trying to stay
quiet for so long he had to clear his throat to get out a word. “For
what?” He scooted down a bit, trying to drag Matt higher. It didn’t
work all that well since Matt was a lot bigger than he was, but Brooks
managed. He checked Matt’s expression, trying to figure out what
was wrong.
“Um, for slamming you into the wall, first off. Then practically
raping you…” Matt lowered his eyebrows thunderously, like an angry
Viking. The look on his face clashed with his blush.
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Brooks rolled his eyes. “You didn’t rape me.” Yeah, he was sore,
and probably would be for a while. But he’d loved every second. “I
was the one who jumped on top of you, remember?”
Matt shrugged, looking thoroughly miserable.
“And you didn’t do this to my face on purpose.”
“Yeah.” Matt shifted up to sitting. He scanned Brooks’s face, his
body. “But I liked it…”
Brooks pulled Matt’s blanket over himself, a little uncomfortable
at how closely Matt was studying him. “I liked it, too.”
“Really?” Matt got under the blanket, too. He cuddled into
Brooks’s side, wrapping his arms around him like he never wanted to
let go.
“Yes. And I told Hunter I wasn’t going to be friends with him
anymore.” He touched his cheek, thinking maybe he should put an ice
pack on it. Brooks knew he’d have a bruise the next day, and he
didn’t want Matt to feel guilty.
“I’m sorry.” Matt rolled Brooks toward him, cradling him in his
arms. He kissed Brooks’s neck, then the side of his head.
“No worries. I was sick of his shit anyway.” Brooks paused,
wondering how much to tell Matt. But he settled on the truth. “I knew
he thought we had something going. I should have told him to back
off a long time ago.”
“S’okay. You did now.”
“So, do you forgive me?”
Matt sighed. “Yeah.”
Brooks rolled onto his side, looking Matt full in the face. He
couldn’t do this anymore—the dancing around, Matt finding excuses
for why they couldn’t be happy. “Then what’s the problem?”
Anger flashed in Matt’s eyes, but only for a second. After that, he
rubbed his face, his sadness returning. “I might not have meant to
leave that mark on your cheek. But Brooks—it turned me on so
much.” Matt pinched his forehead between his thumb and forefinger,
rubbing his temples. “That’s so messed up.”
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“Dude.” Brooks gave him a shove. Hard enough Matt would feel
his strength. “I’m a big, strong guy. You’re not going to really hurt
me.” Then, despite Matt’s sulky mood, he added, “Unless I want you
to.” Brooks made sure to give him a lusty, unmistakable wink.
Matt peeked at him from under his hand, his fingers still woven in
his hair. “You really don’t hate that about me.”
“What, that you get a little rough in bed?”
Matt shrugged. “I guess. If that’s what you call it.” He winced, as
if he would have called it something less complimentary than rough.
Brooks gave him another push, watching the way Matt bounced
back, testing his strength. He needed Matt to understand—Brooks
wasn’t the weaker party between them, not in bed or out. “Have you
ever seen a lacrosse match?”
“No. Maybe once on TV, but not really.”
Brooks gave him a smile—a huge one. “You should come see
mine. Seriously. If you saw how some of those assholes check, you’d
never worry about a little bump on the cheek.” To underline his point,
Brooks reached around and smacked Matt on the butt—less hard than
Matt had hit him earlier, but enough so Matt would get the idea that it
was all in good fun.
“Hey.” Matt swatted Brooks’s hand away. But then he pulled
Brooks into a giant hug. “Stop it, you’re gonna get me hard again.”
But Brooks only smiled into Matt’s shoulder. He was getting hard
again already, and he could feel Matt’s cock plumping against his leg.
He whispered, “That’s all I ever wanted to do.”
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Chapter Ten
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Matt looked out the window
of Brooks’s car as they curved off the highway and into the state park.
He’d only brought one camera, since this was technically a scouting
expedition. Or maybe a date. But Matt still wondered what Brooks
thought he was going to be doing while Matt crouched in the mud.
“Yeah, sure. I brought books in case I get bored.”
It was true—Brooks’s bag filled the corner of the backseat, full to
bursting with papers and workbooks.
“I guess.” The side road led off to a series of parking lots, all with
ferns and evergreens crowded along the sides. Brooks chose the
farthest one to park in and pulled between a couple of cars, even
though the rest of the lot was empty.
Matt cracked open his door, trying not to hit the sedan next to
them. He hoped he’d have enough room to get out. “Why’d you park
between the only two cars in the lot?” He tentatively put his foot on
the ground outside and twisted sideways.
“Prowlers, man. State parks are full of ’em.”
“Huh.” Matt managed to ooze out his door, though he wasn’t sure
how he was going to get his equipment out of the backseat. “I guess
that makes sense.”
“’Course it does. Who’s gonna squeeze in here just to steal a
stereo?” The slightly thinner Brooks turned sideways and maneuvered
out his side. Then he popped the trunk and lifted the divider on the
hatchback to reach into the backseat. “Here.” He handed Matt the
heavy pack full of the school’s camera. Then, more easily, he grabbed
his own bag.
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“Why didn’t you unpack before you pulled into the space?” Matt
cracked a smile, enjoying picking apart Brooks’s plan.
Brooks frowned. “Oh, yeah.”
Matt grabbed his hand and pulled him closer. There was no one
around, so he pecked a kiss on Brooks’s cheek. “You’re funny.”
“Jerk.” Brooks bumped into his side, a good-natured push.
“Maybe, but you’re gonna back outta that spot before I try to get
in again.” Matt shouldered into his side with a playful wrestle. He
loved how solid Brooks was, and how he smelled up close—rough
and a little dirty. Just like always, Matt’s cock took notice and started
filling, but Matt had gained enough control to pull away and calm
himself down.
“We gonna go find these turtles?” Brooks let Matt go, grinning
like he knew perfectly well why Matt had pulled away. “Or do you
want a quick blow job first?”
God, Matt loved him. “No. I think I can hold out until after.” He
adjusted himself inside his jeans, smiling because he realized he was
wearing Brooks’s boxer briefs underneath. Over time, Brooks seemed
to have outfitted Matt in more and more of his clothes.
“Whatever you say, hon.” Brooks leaned in for a quick kiss, but
then set off for the trailhead. His strides bounced, and he fed his arms
through his backpack. Matt knew he didn’t hike much, and his
enthusiasm was really cute.
“The pond is about three miles.” Matt followed behind, enjoying
the view. Brooks was wearing a pair of black track pants and one of
his signature tank tops. This one was looser than normal, apparently
his attempt to be low-key off campus.
“No worries.” The way Brooks hurried, Matt wondered if he
wanted to set off running. Matt had been wondering if Brooks would
be able to handle the hike. He should have remembered how the guy
jogged every day. “That’s not so far.”
The lowlands were dark from the overhang of trees, and ferns
filled the gaps between muddy slicks. But as they gained altitude, the
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Daisy Harris
trees thinned. Bushes, patches of grass, and flowers filled sunny
fields. Finally, the trail led alongside a pond where rushes brushed
dew onto Matt’s and Brooks’s ankles. Out in the sunshine, it was
warm, so Brooks took off his shirt altogether, revealing a gleaming
back before putting back on his backpack.
“This should be good.” Matt slowed, looking around. It was the
same spot he’d shot most of the footage he already had—a small
outcropping of the lake, shallow and rocky enough that the turtles
could climb in and out of the water easily.
He set down his bag. “It’s dry over there.” Matt nodded to where a
flat boulder rose a few feet out of the grassy mud. Big enough for a
couple people to sit on, though just barely. That was where Matt had
laid his equipment during the long hours of his original shoot.
“Okay.” Brooks unpacked his stuff—a water bottle, a jacket,
which he laid on the rock, his books. Then he settled down, leaning
back on his palms, sunning under the wide Vermont sky. “Man, nice
day.”
“Yeah.” Matt smiled at him. He wanted nothing more than to go
sit next to Brooks and kiss him, maybe take him up on that blow job
he’d been offering. But he had work to do. “Let’s hope the weather
holds up.” He squinted at the sun, knowing it would really be better to
be shooting at sunrise or sunset. But the turtles only came out to warm
themselves on sunny days. Trying to catch one in the rain would be a
lot harder.
He rifled through his bag, smelling the loam and earth around
him, watching the gentle waving of grass in the breeze. The wind
even carried a hint of Brooks—sweaty and happy, and just waiting for
when Matt would be done.
“Screw it.” Matt couldn’t resist the draw of him. He stepped over
a fern to get to the rock and crawled on next to Brooks. The surface
was uneven, biting into his ass and scratching his hands, but Brooks
was smooth and warm next to him, and Matt leaned in for a kiss.
Player and the Prude
105
Their lips met on a breath. Matt held back, letting Brooks take the
lead, feeling Brooks’s tongue probing his mouth, his teeth on Matt’s
lips and then on Matt’s chin. Brooks grabbed Matt behind the neck,
dragging him in harder—so much so it was as if he wanted Matt to
fight back.
Matt grabbed Brooks’s hand, pulled it down his body to his groin,
forced Brooks’s palm open over his cock. Then he did the same to
Brooks, rubbing through his pants, reaching lower to grope in his
crease, then sliding back to his dick again.
“What do you want to do?” Brooks gasped between kisses. He
tunneled his hand under Matt’s waistband.
With Brooks’s fist closing around him, Matt struggled to answer.
Still, he managed to gasp out, “I want you to fuck me.”
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Daisy Harris
Chapter Eleven
Brooks paused, his hand still on Matt’s cock, and his lips poised at
Matt’s jaw. “Really?”
They hadn’t had sex since that first time, other than rubbing off
together. But Matt had looked at a lot of the websites and felt like he
understood better what to do. Still, he needed to know what it was
like. And for some reason, he needed Brooks to know he was on
board for whatever Brooks needed.
“Yeah. Really.” Matt scanned their side of the lake, making sure
no one was around. They’d come up a seldom-used path, and it was
noon on a Wednesday. The chances anyone would happen across
them were slim to none. “I’ve been reading about it and want to give
it a try.” His cock gave a little desperate lurch in Brooks’s hand, and
Matt arched up, feeling the scrap of rock at his back.
Brooks nipped his way down Matt’s chest, dragging up his shirt as
he went. “Never look a gift horse in the mouth,” he muttered. In a fit
of excitement, he dragged Matt’s shirt off and fumbled with the front
of his pants.
Matt had never been gladder to be wearing sweatpants. He slid
forward off the rock as Brooks did the same. The two of them landed
with a thunk, grappling with each other’s shoulders, rubbing down
each other’s pants. Brooks grabbed Matt’s ass, dragging him close
and grinding their cocks together through their clothes. All around
them, the trees shook with wind, and the sound of the highway in the
distance filled the air with a low, humming roar.
Brooks spun Matt around and then yanked his pants to his knees.
He rubbed his hand up between Matt’s legs—rubbing at his balls,
Player and the Prude
107
massaging his taint, thumbing his rim. And even though no one had
ever done that to him—even Matt hadn’t played with his ass, it felt
perfect. Because it was Brooks, and they were outdoors under nothing
but sky, the crisp air and warm sun on their skin. And it didn’t matter
what they were doing to make love.
“You are damn lucky I always come prepared.” Brooks reached
past Matt to his backpack and pulled out a few foiled packs. Matt bent
and braced himself on the rock, smelling dust and minerals, the cool
granite in his hands.
“Damn, you are so hot. I wanna take a picture in case you’re never
up for this again.”
Matt craned his neck around for a kiss. Their mouths met roughly.
Matt gasped when Brooks’s touch found his asshole and he pressed
inside. “Oh, I’ll be up for it again.” Matt pushed with his hands,
forcing Brooks’s finger deeper, and also making sure his waving dick
didn’t scrape on the rock. He felt filthy—covered in sweat, dirt on his
hands, and his pants at his ankles, but nothing had ever felt more
right.
Brooks rubbed his back, massaging while he fingered Matt open.
His dick slapped wetly on the back of Matt’s thigh. Another finger—a
small pinch, and then Matt was arching and twisting. It hurt, but
turned him on. Matt reached for his cock, trusting his other hand to
hold him away from the rocks, and jerked in slow pulls in time with
Brooks’s touch.
“Okay.” Brooks pulled away and Matt heard the rip of foil, the
scroll of a condom. Then the slide of Brooks’s cock in Matt’s crease.
It was slippery, as if Brooks had added tons of lube. The feel of all the
warm wetness was enough for Matt to need to come—now.
“C’mon.” He pressed back—angry, insistent, wanting something
to tear up his insides and make him whole again. Maybe Matt wanted
to be hurt. But that didn’t matter so long as it got him off.
Brooks reared back, fit his cockhead to Matt’s body, and shoved
forward.
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Daisy Harris
The rush of it knocked the wind out of Matt, lit him up like a
firecracker of nerve endings. Matt buried his face in his forearm,
shouting into his skin. And when Brooks dragged back, almost all the
way, he growled out the feeling—frantically jerking off.
“Fuck.” Matt’s jaw hung low on Brooks’s next thrust. It was long
and slow, with a twist at the end. Brooks seemed to know the perfect
angle and tempo. Slut that he was. But damn, Matt had to admit it was
good.
Brooks stroked his sides, then grabbed Matt’s hips, riding him
hard until Matt thought his knees would buckle. Whether he tried to
push back or rear away, Brooks held Matt steady and pulsed deep and
hard right into his guts. And even though Matt had given up on
rubbing off—just held onto the rock for dear life—his belly twisted
into a knot and his groin tensed. Cum filled his sack and his dick,
and—biting his arm to stop from screaming—he shot spurt after spurt
onto the rock.
He hadn’t finished when Brooks pulled out, slapping his dick on
Matt’s back. Brooks must have pulled off the condom, because Matt
felt the warm wetness of Brooks coming on his tailbone, then the
delicious rub of Brooks thrusting his half-hard dick through his
puddle.
“Hell, yeah,” Brooks said. He rubbed his forehead between Matt’s
shoulder blades. Then he grabbed his shirt out of his pack and used it
to wipe Matt up.
“Fuck.” Matt twisted around, pulling his pants up and Brooks into
his arms at the same time. Every part of him felt alive—so damn hot
and sexy and real. He crushed Brooks to his chest, mixing their sweat.
“Look at you, cursing like a sailor.” Brooks’s gaze was sultry and
mellow. “I’ll turn you into a tramp in no time.”
Matt grabbed his face with both hands, pulling him into a kiss.
Brooks’s pants were still open at the front, though he’d pulled them
up. Matt fed his hands down to cup his ass and pull him closer.
“Maybe.” Matt bent his knees to nuzzle Brooks’s neck. He was most
Player and the Prude
109
of the way soft, but could tell he would get hard again in a few
minutes. And he wanted to top next. “You’re a terrible influence.” He
turned to get Brooks’s back to the rock. “Gonna send me straight to
hell.”
* * * *
That summer…
Brooks snuck peeks at Matt’s face as the jitney pulled through
Bridgehampton and streamed east. Matt looked a cross between
terrified and horrified, but Brooks was just happy to be getting out of
the sweltering Manhattan heat for the week.
“Is that really a horse show?” Matt nodded out the window to a
giant field filled with tents and trailers.
“The setup for one, yeah. They’d have to be crazy to schedule the
Hampton Open for Fourth of July weekend, though.” Brooks spotted
a sign for the event and breathed a sigh of relief. “See, it’s next
weekend.” The traffic on the south shore of Long Island would be bad
enough on the holiday weekend without the added strain of another
event.
“Are you really sure about this?” Matt asked for the tenth time
since they boarded the bus a few blocks from their summer sublet in
the city.
“Of course. You hate Manhattan.” He clasped hands with Matt
low between their seats. The bus was plush, with cushioned seats, air
conditioning, and fold-down trays like on an airplane. So no one
would notice them holding hands.
And even if they did, half the bus was gay men.
“I don’t hate it so much.” Matt rubbed his thumb over Brooks’s
palm. “And I’m learning a ton at my internship.”
Brooks twined their fingers further. He hated to think about how,
at the end of summer, Matt would have to go back to Vermont and do
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Daisy Harris
his junior year at Holsum while Brooks would be stuck in New York
at his job. “I’m glad.” He leaned over and pecked a kiss on Matt’s
cheek. And though Matt looked around with a panicked expression
for a moment, he settled down a lot faster than he had when he and
Brooks had started going out.
“I just hope the director puts in a good word for me.” Matt
watched out the window as a pond full of ducks and swans came into
sight. “It would be great to get transferred to NYU.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Brooks smiled at the waddling duck
followed by a trail of ducklings. He knew Matt was itching to get off
the bus and film them. “Either they’ll let you transfer in or they won’t.
There’s an airport outside Montpelier. I could see you every other
weekend.”
Matt chuckled. “Talk about expensive.”
“Yeah, good thing I’m in banking.” Brooks grinned, knowing he
was jutting out his chin a little. He loved that he earned enough
money to pay for their rent in New York City and take care of Matt,
since Matt didn’t earn anything at his summer internship. Sure, Matt
had given him shit about it at first. But in the end, Brooks liked being
needed, and Matt liked making Brooks happy.
“That’s a lot of money to spend on a boyfriend. Sure you won’t
just decide to find a different one?” Matt said it like he was joking,
but Brooks knew Matt was serious.
“You know I want you to be more than my boyfriend.” Brooks
looked at where their hands were clasped together. He’d been trying
to prod Matt towards an engagement since his graduation—knowing
that with Matt’s upbringing, Matt wouldn’t feel settled until they were
legally married.
Why Matt was still saying no was a mystery.
Matt looked out the window for a long moment, but then he
turned around and pinned Brooks with a stare. Under his breath, so no
one else on the bus could hear them, he said, “Brooks Price, you
Player and the Prude
111
know I don’t finish school for a couple of years. But—will you marry
me?”
Brooks blinked, knowing his mouth was hanging open. “I’ve
asked you three times already.” Laughter bubbled up in his chest, but
it was tinged with confusion. Of course Brooks wanted to get
engaged. That’s why he’d proposed practically once a week lately.
“Yeah.” Matt rolled his eyes. “But that doesn’t count.”
“You are so weird.” Brooks leaned in and pecked a kiss on Matt’s
mouth, thrilled when Matt didn’t pull away. Against Matt’s lips, he
whispered. “Sure, I’ll marry you. You big freak.”
The road curved around and neared the town of East Hampton
proper—all lined with white-fronted designer boutiques. As the bus
drew to a stop, Brooks felt his first thrill of his own nerves. He
spotted his mom’s Land Rover parked in the pickup zone, and for a
second, Brooks wanted to stay on the bus all the way to the tip of
Long Island. “Listen, just warning you—do not take anything my
mom says seriously. Or my dad, for that matter.”
Matt lowered his eyebrows, his expression worried. “Why? What
are they going to say?”
“Just…” Brooks stared past Matt, out the window, to where his
mother was getting out of her car. She was a vision with her frosted
highlights and sunglasses. When her eyes met Brooks’s, she frowned.
“Just, don’t take anything personally, okay?”
“Okay.” Matt stood from his seat, crouching partly since he was
the one by the window and the bins overhead didn’t allow him to
reach full height.
Brooks slid out of his seat and bustled into the center aisle, where
passengers were filing out of the bus. He grabbed his bag off the
overhead shelf and pressed through the crush of people until he
climbed down the steps and out into the leafy shade of the bus stop.
He felt Matt at his back, hard and solid. And, unfortunately,
pushing him right in the direction of his mother.
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Daisy Harris
“Brooks!” She stepped toward them, flashing her million-dollar
smile. “How was your trip?” She didn’t make any move to
acknowledge Matt or address him, so Brooks stepped to the side and
gestured to his boyfriend.
“It was fine. Mom, this is Matthew Porter. He goes by Matt. And
Matt—this is my mother.”
“You can call me Barbara.” She held out a hand stiffly.
“Nice to meet you.” Matt shook her hand as if it might bite him,
which looked pretty funny considering she was almost a foot shorter
than him. Granted, her shoes alone probably cost more than a month
of their rent, so Brooks could see how Matt would be intimidated.
“So.” His mom turned back to Brooks. “Sorry your other friend
couldn’t make it.”
Brooks ignored her comment, grabbing his and Matt’s suitcase out
of the pile being unloaded by the driver. He carried it over to his
mom’s car, giving Matt an apologetic grimace along the way.
“Hunter was busy,” he lied. “And anyway, there’s only one
bedroom in the guest cottage.”
The three of them climbed into the car with Brooks and his
mother in front, and Matt a quiet presence in the backseat. His mother
turned to head for the bay, prattling nonstop about the weather, and
her friends, and the plans she’d made for all of them for the weekend.
What Matt thought about it all, Brooks had no idea. But as his mom
pulled into the curved driveway in front of their house, he found it all
too much to handle. The crunch of the gravel under the wheels
sounded like a death knell, and if he didn’t say something at that
moment, Brooks knew he’d get dragged around all weekend, being
talked over and Matt being ignored. And Brooks couldn’t handle that
happening. It was his and Matt’s vacation, too.
“Mom?”
She paused, her hands still on the steering wheel. His mom put the
car into park. “Yes, Brooks?” The tilt of her head made it seem like
Player and the Prude
113
she was genuinely interested, though the tight set of her mouth was a
warning.
Brooks felt himself shrinking into the leather seat. “Um. I thought
you should know that Matt and I are engaged.” It was only then that
Brooks realized it wasn’t just Matt who needed the completeness of
marriage. Brooks needed it, too.
“What?” His mother stared at him for a long moment, like he’d
just grown another head. “You and who?”
Matt snickered in the backseat, and Brooks’s mother turned
around and looked at him. Even with her sunglasses on, Brooks could
tell that her eyes were getting wider, as if on some level she’d only
just realized Matt was sitting there. It was as if he materialized for her
only in the moment when she realized he might actually affect her
life.
“My name is Matt.” Matt leaned forward in his seat, holding out
his hand for Barbara to shake. “Matt Porter. We met before, back at
the bus stop.”
Barbara didn’t catch his joke, because she stared at his hand for a
full three seconds before she reached over to shake it. “Um…” She
darted a glance at Brooks. “Really?”
Brooks nodded, a smile stretching his mouth. He’d never seen his
mother at a loss for words before. It was pretty funny.
However, it was a short-lived victory, because his mother blinked
a recovery, swiping her sunglasses off her face and gripping Matt’s
hand in a firm handshake. Very much like the budding politician she
was. “Of course, Matt. I hope you’ll enjoy staying here at the house.”
Her eyes lit up manically, even before she let go of his hand, and
Barbara swung her attention around to Brooks so quickly he
wondered if she’d get whiplash. “Could you announce this at the
party?”
“Which party?” Brooks’s mind reeled. Fourth of July in the
Hamptons was a whirlwind of social events, and his mother had just
listed ten in the past five minutes.
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Daisy Harris
“Our party!” She threw up her hands, as if everyone in the car, if
not the world, should have known exactly what she was talking about.
“You should announce your engagement. There’ll be press there. And
can you imagine? My son, getting gay married? It’ll be the news of
the season. I’ve got to make some calls—” She threw open her door
and stepped outside. Without even looking back in their direction, she
waved a careless hand. “You can get settled in the guest house
yourself, right? I’ve got so much to do.”
“Okay, Mom.” Brooks got out of the car, breathing a sigh of relief
not to be in her line of attention any longer. He grimaced at Matt, who
was unfolding himself from the back of the car.
Matt leaned into his side and mumbled, “What just happened?”
Brooks shook his head. “I think our engagement just got outed.”
The door of the house opened, and Brooks’s mother poked her
head through the crack in the door. “Brooks, would you be a dear and
send me all of your friend’s information for the press release?”
“Sure thing, Mom.” Brooks worried Matt would be offended that
his mother still obviously hadn’t figured out what his name was, but
when he checked Matt’s expression, he found that Matt was holding a
hand over his mouth, his eyes watering on a laugh.
“She’s pretty terrible, I know.” Brooks opened the back door of
the car so Matt could pull out their suitcase.
Matt hauled it out and started following Brooks around the side of
the house to where his mother kept guests she didn’t much want to
see. “I dunno. She’s just a little self-involved.”
Brooks laughed. “A little?”
They rounded the garage and tromped across the wide backyard
lawn toward the guest house at the edge of the bay. Matt caught his
arm and pulled Brooks into a rough hug. He kissed Brooks’s mouth
with a quick brush of lips and a slight scrape of stubble. Then he
whispered against Brooks’s lips, “Yeah. Just a teeny, tiny bit.”
* * * *
Player and the Prude
115
Matt tried not to gawp too much when the guests started filing in
for the Prices’ Fourth of July party. He stood in his awkward
seersucker suit that Brooks had forced him to wear, trying to gulp
down a beer. The back patio was still empty, with Brooks inside
talking to his mother’s friends. Past the windows, caterers arranged
plates and frantically moved trays from the Prices’ stack of ovens to a
series of chafing dishes laid out in the enormous dining room.
The whole house was lit from within, but still, the Long Island sky
was beautiful overhead. Brooks’s house was right on the water, and at
night in their room, Matt heard the clanking of boats in the nearby
marina. Of course, Matt couldn’t hear it at that moment, since music
and talking were filtering through from the open sliding doors.
Brooks appeared at one of those doors, easing open the screen.
“Hey, you okay out here?” He walked across the candlelit courtyard,
wearing a crisp white shirt under a pale blue jacket, his eyes bright
and excited against his tan skin. And he was so handsome Matt
thought his heart might stop beating.
“I don’t know,” Matt answered honestly. He glanced inside at all
the people he didn’t know. On the one hand, who cared if people he
didn’t know knew he and Brooks were planning to get married? But
on the other hand, they hadn’t told hardly anyone yet. And this was a
big step.
“C’mon.” Brooks snatched his hands and pulled Matt across the
lawn toward the guest house. It was tiny compared to the majestic
main house—just a couple rooms smelling of salt water and sand.
When they’d cleared the screen door, Brooks pulled him to the
bedroom and fell on top of him on the bed.
“What’re you doing?” Matt chuckled, trying not to crumple his
suit.
But Brooks pinned him down. “Oh, my God, I’m so stressed out. I
need a quickie.” He yanked off his jacket and tossed it on the floor,
then unbuttoned his shirt.
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Daisy Harris
“You’re insane.” Matt ran his hands over Brooks’s bare skin. He
hadn’t wanted to have sex at all under Brooks’s parents’ roof, but
with Brooks getting naked, it was hard to resist.
“Nah. We have at least a half an hour before everyone gets here.”
He shoved at the shoulders of Matt’s jacket.
Matt sat up far enough for Brooks to undress him. “Yes, but won’t
they wonder where we are?” He was laughing, struggling with
Brooks’s clothes, unfastening his belt.
Brooks paused, pinning Matt with a disbelieving stare. “Matt,
you’ve met my mother, right?”
Matt’s lower lip trembled. He tried not to laugh, he really did. But
the concept of Barbara Price suddenly saying, “Wait! Where is my
gay son and his ‘friend’?” was so funny and improbable that Matt felt
tears of laughter well up in his eyes. “You’re right. No one is coming
to look for us.”
He rolled on top, shoving his pants down to his knees as he went.
Odd, but he and Brooks always seemed to have sex half clothed. It
was hotter when they were struggling.
“You want to start or finish?” Brooks stretched his arms up over
his head, fumbling around on their nightstand for lube.
“Really?” Matt had just been thinking about a quick jerk together,
not full-out sex. He reared back to take off the rest of his clothes.
Normally, he didn’t mind getting messy, but he had to wear those out
in public.
“Yeah, really.” Brooks hooked a hand around Matt’s neck,
dragging him in for another kiss. Then he hitched his leg over Matt’s
back and flipped them both over to get on top. Their cocks slapped
together, their chests rubbing roughly.
Matt grabbed Brooks’s hips and ground up into him. “You start. I
wanna finish.”
“Slut.” Brooks hauled Matt’s leg up, cocking his knee almost to
his shoulder. Then he swiped lube over Matt’s opening, fingered him
in quick, deep shoves.
Player and the Prude
117
“Oh, you are lucky I don’t flip you over and beat you till you beg
for it.” Matt growled when Brooks forced a third finger inside,
twisting as payback.
“Shut the fuck up.” Brooks thrust inside him so fast that Matt
hadn’t even known he was going to start. He bucked hard, riding Matt
like he knew Matt could take it, like he knew Matt was gonna give it
back to him when they were both about to come.
Matt arched, helping Brooks hit that spot inside him. Damn,
Brooks was so good. Better, Matt knew, than he was. He wasn’t big,
but he had this impeccable aim that always got Matt so stiff he didn’t
even have to touch himself to get off. “Stop.” Matt caught Brooks’s
shoulders, forcing him to be still. His dick pulsed, dribbling pre-cum
and pointing straight out from his body, as if reaching for Brooks’s
smooth skin. “Gonna go soon.”
Brooks’s eyes were half lidded, drowning in arousal, but still he
managed to sound cocky when he asked, “I’m that good, huh?”
Matt grabbed Brooks by the face, pushing him off, and then
wrestled him around and onto his knees. When he’d forced Brooks’s
cheek to the bed, he grabbed the lube from where it was lying and
smoothed it over his cock. “You cocky little whore.” He gave
Brooks’s ass a swat before fitting his cap to Brooks’s hole. Matt
hoped the sound of it hadn’t carried through the open window.
“Shit, fuck, oh, my…fuck.” Brooks bounced slightly, shivering, as
Matt pushed into him. Matt could tell he was an inch from coming
since he wasn’t rubbing himself frantically like he normally did when
he got done.
“God, I love you.” Matt bucked into him, pounding with
abandon—Brooks’s body a perfect vessel for his lust.
“Fuck. You, too.” Brooks craned his head around for a kiss and
Matt met him, their teeth catching and their faces scraping and their
lips bruised.
“Go on…” Matt palmed Brooks’s ass, railing as hard as he could,
watching Brooks’s hand blur as he jerked off below him. And then
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Daisy Harris
Brooks was pushing back, like a sheep being forced to the edge of a
cliff, and he started mewling out these high-pitched sounds that were
in no way masculine, but still turned Matt on so much he thought his
dick would burst at the seams.
“I…I…I…”
Matt kissed Brooks’s back, feeling the clench of Brooks’s ass on
his cock, the answering pulse of his own orgasm. They held still,
though their whole bodies were coiled and shivering. His world
narrowed to the feeling of Brooks’s under him, his cock buried deep,
his legs scratching on the back of Brooks’s thighs, and the sound of
crickets outside the window. And if there were people with their
parties and their agendas and their announcements waiting outside,
Matt didn’t plan to return to the world for a very long time.
THE END
WWW.THEDAISYHARRIS.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Birkenstock-wearing glamour girl and mother of two by
immaculate conception, Daisy Harris still isn’t sure if she writes
erotica. Her romances start out innocently enough, but much to Miss
Harris’s dismay the sex tends to get completely out of hand.
She writes about fantastical creatures and about young men
getting their freak on, and she’s never missed an episode of The
Walking Dead.
For all titles by Daisy Harris, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/daisy-harris
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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