Rumor Has It (Longwood U)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

SPARROW

I drop onto the lounge beside Xavi and look out over the lake in the distance, even though we’re sitting at the edge of the pool. It’s really a cool view since the infinity pool disappears into the horizon and looks like it extends into the lake from this angle, which was probably why it was built like this.

“This is an enormous vacation home for two people,” I comment.

“We’re spoiled rich boys who are used to having 800 rooms, but only living in two of them,” Xavi says, shrugging.

I snort. “You bought this place, right?”

He nods.

“What do you plan to do with it next year? Are you staying here?”

“No. Probably not. Where are you going?”

I’d known from the moment he told me that he and Enfield bought a lake house twenty minutes from campus that he’d moved down here to be close to me. When I asked him outright, he denied it. Though the amused look Enfield gave me told me a very different story.

“I don’t know yet,” I admit, shrugging. I wrap my arm around his shoulders and pull him close, kissing his temple.

He sighs, knowing he’s been figured out. “Oh! Do you want it?”

I look at him, startled. “What? ”

“This house! Do you want it?” The level of excitement here is almost comical. I’d laugh if I knew he was joking. He’s not.

“You can’t give me a house.”

“Sure I can. It’ll be a graduation present. You know… for all your degrees combined.”

I shake my head. “No, Xavi. You’re not giving me your house.”

Xavi sighs dramatically as if I just crushed his dreams. “We’ll probably just sell it then. Or maybe keep it for sentimental reasons.”

“What reasons are those?”

He shrugs. “It’s the first piece of property we bought together. Isn’t that a good sentimental reason?”

Chuckling, I shake my head. Oh, to be rich and fickle. “You could have rented,” I point out. “That makes more sense for short-term.”

“We didn’t want to rent. Enfield says that when properties get to a certain price point, it’s more difficult to find renters as well as owners willing to rent.”

“Then why not suck it up for a couple years and get a smaller place?”

The look of mortification he gives me has me laughing. “Spoiled rich boy indeed.”

“I own it,” he says, sniffing.

“Tell me you’re at least going to fill all that empty space with babies.”

He gives me a dubious look. “No. Babies were part of our contract, and when we broke our contract, we promised them we’d never have babies.”

Sighing, I hug him again. Xavi shifts to rest his head on my shoulder. “I understand wanting to do everything you can to piss off your parents, but if you want kids, then have some.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve never been totally on board with having kids anyway. It was a relief when Avory told us we were no longer required to have kids once the contract was no longer applicable. I think that relief speaks more than my initial ambivalence toward the idea.”

Sometimes, I forget how very different our lives were growing up, despite living so close with nothing but a wall separating us. The tradition and expectations placed on Xavi simply for being born into his family never ceased to shock me. And, more times than not, pissed me off.

I was fifteen when Xavi told me about the arranged marriage. The first one he fell through because there was a kid involved. I don’t remember the details. But because these rich folk arrange marriages at such a young age, when Xavi was nineteen and the guy was supposed to show up for his three-month, pre-wedding courting ritual, he didn’t show and there was a kid involved in some way. I’m almost certain.

It was a few years later before another contract came about. Enter Enfield “the Asshole” Undergrove. I was betting on another contract falling through. I was almost certain there should have been a sexuality clause in there, but shocker—there was not, except to state that both parties were to be male with male genitalia.

I’m not even going to bring up the sex clause. Rich people’s contracts are wild. That’s all I’m saying.

“What about you?” Xavi asks.

“Hmm?” Had we been in the middle of a conversation, and I got lost somewhere?

He laughs. “Do you want kids?”

“Oh. I don’t know. I think I’m indifferent to the idea. I could go either way. Guess it’ll depend on my partner.”

“Speaking of partner… what’s happening with the guy at Rumor?”

“I’m not sure how slutting it up with a bunch of straight guys equates to a partner, but you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“The one who kept coming back for you and only you.”

He’s either talking about Dak or the stalker guy who I haven’t seen in a month or so. Maybe that guy finally gave up. Even though I narrowed it down… “Which is that?”

Xavi laughs. “Oh, to be you! This last guy. The one who’s mastered edging you.”

“That he has,” I say.

“You’re avoiding the question. What’s happening with that guy? Did you finally get to fuck him?”

I nod. “Yep.”

There’s a moment of pause. “That’s it? Yep? Was it that bad?”

Laughing, I shake my head and close my eyes. “No. Not at all. He’s…” I don’t say perfect because Xavi would blow this out of the water. “Got a perfectly tight ass. I think he could lay there stiff as a fucking board, and he’d still be a great fuck.”

In the week since Dak came home with me for the first time, he’s been back three more times. We’ve fucked all three times. I’m not sure he’d enjoyed it any more those times than he did the first, which is to say, minimally. He gets off easily enough with only a little bit of encouragement so there’s that, but he’s not a huge fan of being fucked, I’d wager.

But he keeps coming back. All on his own without my invitation. He initiates it every time, so I’m not entirely sure what to make of it.

Since I enjoy his ass—his body in general—his mouth and his smile and his sense of humor, I don’t put a stop to it. I don’t question it. Though… maybe I should.

“Then you’re seeing him now?”

“No. I’m fucking him now.”

“Often?”

“Uh… I suppose often enough. How often do you get laid?”

Xavi flushes and tries to hide his smile. “Most nights.”

“Are we talking four out of seven because that’s technically more than half, so it can be considered most nights. Or like eighteen out of thirty days in a month, which I think is still most nights?”

“Oh, my god,” he mutters, covering his face. He’d never been shy about sex until he got married. I’m incredibly curious because of it, which is the only reason I’m prying a little. “Uh… like, twenty-five out of thirty?”

“Hmm,” I muse. “Then given the law of averages, not as much as you, but still most nights by my definition. Though it’s only been a week, so I can’t give you a more accurate account.”

Xavi looks at me. “That was a very clinical answer. Are you enjoying it? Do you just fuck and run? Tell me more details.”

“Quid pro quo. I’ll tell you details if you tell me details.”

His cheeks immediately turn bright red. I touch one and he bows his head to hide. With a sigh, he shakes his head.

“Is it in your relationship agreement that sexy talk is just between you? No kissing and telling?”

Xavi looks at me with big eyes. “No… I just… It feels more pers onal with Enfield than it did talking about random hookups. Like some things should be private?”

I sigh. “I like his ass,” I say, turning my attention toward the lake. There’s someone on a jet ski cruising around in the distance. Xavi leans back, his shoulders losing the tension. “It’s round and perfect. Such a tight hole. I really love being the only one breaking it in. His dick is exactly the right size—big without being big, you know? I can choke on it without dying. Prominent veins, nice proportionate cockhead with a very pronounced mushroom top. His balls are always so heavy for me. He’s got the exact right amount of muscle, his body is hard but not ridiculously defined. He’s got just a hint of hair on his chest and below his navel. I’m not sure if he shaves or if that’s natural. Very sensitive nipples that I haven’t played with nearly enough. His hair is the color of bark and stupidly soft, just long enough to get a fistful of when I want to, which I haven’t yet. Not sure how he’ll like it.”

I trail off, picturing this man in front of me. A minute of silence passes between us before I say, “I don’t think he’s all that into bottoming. He doesn’t enjoy it like most men who bottom by choice often, you know?”

“Has he asked to top?”

“No,” I muse. “I think the reason I keep seeing him is there are questions like that which I can’t answer yet. He’s still interesting to me. And his ass is still a treat. There are still a lot of things I can show him.”

“Maybe because you waited so long to have it,” Xavi suggests.

With a huff, I nod. “Maybe.”

“Do you guys talk too?”

I shake my head. “Not really. Not more than, like, niceties or whatever. Just things to pass the minutes so they’re not awkwardly quiet.”

“Hmm,” Xavi hums. “Do you like him?”

Because this is Xavi, I’m willing to answer. Anyone else, I’d say it’s just a fuck and be done with it. “I like his sense of humor, the few times I’ve seen it. I like his smile. But I don’t know him well enough to say so.”

“Do you want to know him?”

My answer would typically be no. I’m sure he’s the average student age at Longwood and, generally speaking, they’re just too young for me at this stage in our lives. We’re at different points in our maturity, in our goals. I say this from experience because last year was a series of irritating encounters that ended up being very enlightening for me, and not because I’m an arrogant prick.

But Dak… I can’t really say because we haven’t actually spoken a lot. Those times we have spoken, like the first time I was called to Rumor for him… I didn’t get the same sense of immaturity from him that I have from most other students. Maybe because he was struggling with something at the moment, but even how he handled the struggle was very different from how so many others have.

I’ve laughed over the guys that run once they see me on campus after I’ve gotten them off at Rumor. Whether it be a premature orgasm, horror at the fact that they liked some gay time, or whatever.

That wasn’t Dak’s response. He had specific questions to try to mitigate his confusion. He had no problem talking about what was bothering him. There was more maturity in those few minutes we spoke than I’ve witnessed in practically every other Rumor encounter combined.

But do I want to get to know Dak? I don’t really know.

“Maybe,” I concede.

“What’s going to push you one way or the other?”

I shake my head. “Time, I guess. He seemed content to suspend the notion of sexuality and gender when I suggested it after it became clear that it was a sticking point for him as far as his confusion went. But there may be a time when he decides he’s going back to girls. Or maybe our compatibility isn’t what it feels like it is now. I like the glimpses of his personality that I’ve seen but… we’re really just fucking at the moment.”

“You could ask him out.”

“I prefer the orgasm to dating.”

“No doubt. You always were a slut.”

I grin. “Not so. There was a window of like eight days when I was nineteen that I stopped slutting.”

That’s not entirely true. I’m definitely more talk than action as far as slutting is concerned. After college was a fun free-for-all for a bit. Last year when I came back, I realized I’m definitely not the same as those around me. Thankfully, Rumor came along and I have a place to get my rocks off without having to pretend to be into someone on campus to get a blowie.

Granted most of my experiences at Rumor don’t end up in orgasm. Thankfully, there’s always been someone around after.

“I just want you to be happy,” Xavi says. “I want us to buy houses next to each other and live happily ever after with our husbands. Like your neighborhood was. I always imagined us in the same kind of place.”

I smile, shifting so I can lean my head against his. “I’m not unhappy, Xavi, but I’m not ready to get married. Also, my modest 2,000 square foot house is going to look ridiculous next to your 20,000 square foot mansion.”

He snorts. “I don’t need 20,000 square feet. Maybe ten or twelve.”

“That doesn’t change my observation at all.”

Xavi laughs. He links his arm under mine so I grip his thigh. He sighs.

Once, I might have thought we would have had the perfect life together if we’d felt any kind of romantic feelings for each other. But in the last few years, I’m not so sure that we’re compatible on that kind of level, either. Though I think we could have made it work because who doesn’t want to be married to their best friend?

A couple years ago, I realized I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life at all. That’s why I enrolled in college again. Looking for some direction. A purpose.

What I found was Dak. He’s been the most interesting thing in the last year and a half. Pity that it’ll likely only end up being a little blip in my life.