“Y-you can call me Beck,” he whispers. But I’m not letting him ignore my question.
“H-how many times?” I coax softly, leaning forward just enough that he feels the heat of my breath.
He swallows. Hard. “Two.”
I bite my lip and look up at the ceiling like I need strength from above. God. Damn.
“And how many times did you come thinking about gagging on my cock?”
His breath stutters, and the cup in his hand trembles. Red spreads across his cheeks, his neck, and the tips of his ears. He’s sweating.
He’s trying to hold himself together and failing spectacularly.
“T-two,” he whispers.
I hum low and approving. “Good girl, Becky.”
He shivers again, and I have to turn away before I pounce on him right here.
I’m barely out the side door of the dining hall when I hear Beckett call my name
“Wait!”
I school my face into something neutral before turning to face him.
Beck jogs up, breathless and still holding his cup and an armful of food. “What are you doing today?”
“It’s Sunday,” I say blandly. “I’m going to go do some gay shit like the Lord intended.”
He barks out a surprised laugh, the sound echoing off the courtyard. It reverberates through me and settles in my chest, warm and happy.
“Can I walk with you?” he asks, looking down at his fruit haul like he forgot it was there. He drops everything but an apple, a protein bar, and his tea on a picnic table and looks back up at me a little shyly.
I shrug. “Sure.”
We head down one of the quieter paths. Campus is still nearly empty, the sun warming the leaves that haven’t quite given in to October yet. It’s gotten significantly warmer since our morning workout. It feels too warm for the season—climate crisis,hooray!—but it’s peaceful.
I take the long way without making it too obvious that I’m trying to drag this out.
After a while, when Beckett has finished his snack and discarded his cup in a recycling bin, I sit down under a tree, leaning back against the rough trunk. The shade hides us from the path above. Beck hovers like he’s afraid the ground might swallow him.
“Relax,” I say, patting the grass beside me. “It’s just a tree. And we’re outside. I’m not going to jump you in public.” Not that there’s anyone around to see even if I did.
He snorts, glancing around again before sitting closer than I expected, close enough that the heat of his thigh kisses mine whenever either of us shifts.
“Are you really…” he starts, then seems to think better of what he was about to ask and leaves it hanging.
“Gay?” I supply.
He blinks as though he wasn’t expecting me to say it out loud. “Uh. Yeah.”
I nod. “It’s not a bad word, you know. Say it.”
“What?”
“Say it. Say gay.”
He hesitates. “Gay.”
