Alfie was enjoying a rare night to himself. Or not enjoying exactly. He felt restless, like he ought to be doing something. Homework, probably. He was caught up in his classes because he was a quick study, but he wasn’t all that focused on them. Servicing the guys took a lot of his time and energy, and feeling horny and unsatisfied took the rest.
This wasn’t the college experience his parents were paying for him to have, that was for sure. It wasn’t the college experience he’d expected to have either, but only because he’d never imagined anything this amazingly good. He only had two complaints, the most pressing of which was never getting to come.
Being milked was all right. Now that he’d gotten used to it, he’d stopped hating it so much. The trick was to relax and let it happen, to accept a slow drip in place of an explosive climax, to accept that Coach knew best, to accept his place, which was to serve, not perv. When he accepted all that, he was for the most part happy.
The other thing missing—the more important thing, if he was being honest about it—was an emotional connection. Max was gorgeous and Bruiser was powerful and the five guys who shared a house were a lively, boisterous bunch who kept coming up with new ways to use him. They’d started out by sending him from room to room to blow them each individually, but they’d quickly progressed from there. Last night they’d run a train on him.
Alfie sat at his little desk, the one he’d once licked Max’s come off of, and pretended to study his Differential Equations textbook while really he relived the thrill of taking one cock after another up his ass and down his throat in a succession so unending that he’d have sworn there were twenty men living inthat house instead of five. In fact, somewhere in there he was pretty sure he’d seen some strangers, as if the guys had started calling over random non-team friends.
Which, maybe they had. Alfie wasn’t going to complain about it. Not when he’d been filled so good and left so horny. If there’d been another dozen, it wouldn’t have been too many. Maybe he had a problem, a sort of addiction. It was like he couldn’t be sated. But that was exactly it. He never got sated because he never had a climax. And because afterward he never got anything except sent home. Not even a pat on the back.
Alfie wanted kisses. Cock, yes. Lots of cock. But kisses and cuddles too and someone who knew his name.
He sighed. Looked at his phone. Wished someone would call him. Went back to his textbook. Differential Equations, that was where his future lay. Not with those guys who only thought of him as a cum dump, no matter how hot they were. He squeezed his cage, telling his dick it wasn’t getting any tonight (not that it ever got any) and tried one more time to think about differential equations.
Then his phone buzzed, thank the merciful heavens.
It wasn’t a number he recognized, and the person texting didn’t identify himself, only asked if Alfie could come over.
Alfie almost texted back asking who it was, but what did it matter? Instead he asked for an address, which turned out to be a dorm across campus, somewhere he hadn’t been before. He sent an ETA, then hopped in the shower real quick in case the guy wanted to fuck and dressed in his usual uniform of a jock and some clothes that could be either discarded or worked around, depending on how the guy felt. Some guys preferred to see as little of him as possible, others didn’t want cloth in their way. Alfie just did whatever.
He knocked on the door to the room number he’d been given and waited what seemed like an unreasonably long time for hisknock to be answered. Unless this room was a lot bigger than his, it couldn’t take more than a second to cross it. When the door finally opened, it was only a crack. A hand reached through the crack, grabbed his wrist, and used it to yank him inside, smashing his shoulder against the door jamb in the process.
“Ow.” He rubbed his shoulder as he looked around. The room was as small as he’d expected it to be, laid out almost exactly like his and currently containing exactly one person: Ryan.
“Sorry. I just didn’t want…”
“Anyone to see me?” Alfie sighed. “I told you practically the whole team calls me. You don’t gotta worry about them thinking you’re gay.”
“I know. I just…”
Ryan was super worried about people thinking he was gay, Alfie could tell. It didn’t make sense. Unless.
“Youaregay, huh?”
It took Ryan a while to nod, but eventually he did.
Alfie sat down on Ryan’s narrow bed, which was neatly made, unlike any other bed in any other dorm room he’d been in. Alfie could see Ryan was trying hard to control every aspect of his life in an attempt to somehow control his sexuality. And it was eating him up.
He patted the mattress next to him, indicating Ryan should sit too but Ryan continued to lurk over by his desk, a desk he’d presumably never licked come off of. Which was a shame. Alfie wanted to help him.
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“You told me those other guys call you.”
“Yeah, because they don’t care. They’re just using me. Coach said they should.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t mean anything to them.”
“It would mean something to me.”
“I know. I understand. It means something to me too.”
“So you’re really gay? This isn’t just Coach forcing you or whatever?”
“Nah, no one’s forcing me. Those guys are hot. I want them to fuck me. Don’t you think they’re hot?”
Ryan shook his head.
“Really? Or you’re just saying that because you’re freaked out about it.”
