Rumor Has It (Longwood U)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

SPARROW

For the first few weeks or so, Dak is only around for sex. I’m still convinced he’s not that into it. At least, not at first. But as we get into fucking each time, he seems to get a lot more turned on.

I experimented a few times, thinking I just needed to up my foreplay game, but I’m not convinced it matters. Even when I bring him right to the brink of climax before fucking him, he definitely would much prefer if I continued foreplay. Again, until , we’re further along in fucking.

Maybe it’s just the initial penetration he doesn’t like? There’s a very good chance he’s more of a side than a bottom. I’ve hinted around about whether he wants to top or not, but he maintains that he likes what we’re doing. I’ve made sure he knows we don’t have to have sex at all, but we can just fool around instead. Nope, he still insists he wants to fuck.

Not going to lie—if he says yes, I’m fucking his tight ass. I’m obsessed with his ass. With his body. The way he says my name. His face when he orgasms. How he clings to me both initially when I’m pushing inside him, and then when he’s loose enough to fuck for real.

Dak consumes my thoughts. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I’m also not willing to tell him to go away. I don’t want to stop fucking him.

He’s been here a dozen times and is always open to different positions. As long as I begin slow, he’s also down to let me fuck him. I don’t know what it is about this man, but I can’t get enough. I’d love to have him in my bed every single night. I’ve had sex with plenty of men at this point, but I’m not sure I’ve ever been as into someone as I am Dak.

Into him physically, anyway. We still don’t talk about much if it doesn’t have to do with sex. His presence in my studio is short once we’re done fucking and cleaned up.

I’m not sure if I like that, or if I’d want to change it. Xavi keeps asking me, so the little fucker’s made the question remain loud in my head. But how I feel about it? No idea.

Not that it matters. I drop onto my couch with my tablet and open it to my latest assignment. I stare at the half-finished image and decide I’m truly not feeling this at all. Like at all. But do I start over?

I’m still waffling when there’s a knock at my door. I know who it’s not—someone with a key. A glance at the time tells me it’s a little early for Dak and he was just here yesterday, so it seems unlikely that he’ll be here today.

However, I’m happy for any interruption to my work and click off the tablet. Setting it on the table, I cross my space and open the door, but keep the chain in place. I’m not a big dude and I didn’t grab a knife on my way for protection. Call me paranoid, but I’ve watched too many horror movies and serial killer documentaries.

Dak looks at me through the crack and then looks curiously at the chain.

“You could be anyone,” I retort before shutting the door and undoing the chain. As soon as I open the door, he springs at me, pressing his mouth roughly to mine. I stumble backwards, trying to shove the door shut before falling on my ass.

He laughs. “Yep, you’re right. The chain only slightly prevents me from attacking you. You just prolonged your life by like three seconds.”

Rolling my eyes, I pick myself up, hauling Dak with me. He’s still laughing, looking rather smug when he’s on his feet again.

“Get undressed, Risk.”

He still hates that I call him Risk, but he definitely earned the name. I lost count of how many times he ran out on me at Rumor. Dak glares, but he’s hot as fuck when he glares so I only take more pleasure in it.

His clothes remain on, hands now stuffed in his pockets. I recognize the light tint of red on his cheeks as his glare fades and timidity takes its place. His weight shifts from one side to the other.

I love shy Dak.

Smirking, I grip his hips and pull him against me. “What’s wrong, Risk?” I ask, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

We’re about the same height. I think one of us is taller by an inch maybe but it’s hard to say which. Right now, I feel like we’re exactly the same. We’re also more or less the same build, but he’s lean and toned, whereas I’m lean and soft. Like a pillow.

“One of my roommates is an asshole and I just needed to get out of there, since he’s on a rampage about something stupid.”

“What’s his problem?”

“Apparently you need a very specific card to be queer and our other roommate doesn’t fit the bill, which makes the rest of us pissed off—though Ez doesn’t actually care when it’s him that this other dick is saying it in reference to.”

I frown. “Want me to beat him up?”

Dak laughs. “Yes. Can you?”

“No. But I’d like to. What does that mean, ‘a very specific card to be queer’?”

He sighs. I can feel his frustration and irritation. “Ez is pan. Like, he’s a new, superior breed of human. I had to literally train him what I like in a date’s pants for him to set me up with the right gender when he insists on dragging me along for double dates. Talking to him about gender is a trip. I seriously don’t think he even understands gender to some degree. It doesn’t exist for him—he likes people. Period. To Stephen, being gay or lesbian is the only thing that truly matters to be identified as queer.”

I frown. “Who is this guy and why does he think he can gatekeep the queer community?”

“I think he has a chip on his shoulder for whatever reason, but I don’t know why it’s there or what his problem is. The bs he’s spewing today means someone disagreed with him, and now he just won’t shut up. Since Ez is right there, he’s an easy target; while Ez seriously gives negative fucks about Stephen’s opinions, it pisses me off. And even Milo—who is usually more on the hippie side of life and is almost always relaxed like he’s high all the time—was getting irritated.”

Letting Dak go, I close my door the rest of the way and lock it before dragging him inside and to the couch. “You’ll find there’s actually a lot of gatekeeping in the LGBTQIA+ community. Some people exemplify some exclusionary practices where certain individuals or groups within the community attempt to define or limit who ‘qualifies’ as a member of the community based on narrow or rigid criteria. They do so most often by cutting off the last two or three letters and just saying LGBT, with or without the plus.”

Dak nods. “I get that to some degree. I have gay dads. I guess I never knew that was why people shorten the acronym, though. Makes sense because that’s totally Stephen, although with him, it would just be LG. Or maybe just G.”

I laugh. “Yes. Most people do so because it’s common and easier. Or through a lack of education, or lack of understanding. But by removing the last few letters, you’re erasing entire groups of people when their representation is just as important and just as valid. Again, most people do this without understanding what they’re doing and there isn’t normally ill intent behind it. With gay dads, I’m sure you know that.”

Dak nods.

“But people like your roommate definitely do it on purpose. While I’m not a psychology major, I’d love to know why he feels the way he does. Someone somewhere pissed in his soup and forced it down his throat.”

He laughs. “I’m totally going to use that.”

“Sounds like a miserable place to live.”

Dak leans back and closes his eyes. “Most days he goes ignored entirely. Ez and I keep to our bedroom when we’re home, simply to avoid him, and Milo goes wherever Stephen isn’t. But he was just being extra nasty today and I needed to leave. I didn’t mean to barge in on you.”

I shrug. “I’m only procrastinating. No biggie.”

Silence envelopes us and he drops his gaze to his hands in his lap. “Want to fuck? ”

A laugh bursts out of me. “Are you asking because you think that’s what you need to offer when you’re here, or because you want to?”

With a coy smile, he shakes his head. “Dunno. Both maybe. Or maybe neither.”

“What do you want to do?”

He glances at me, his eyes dropping to my crotch. “I think my sucking skills are lacking, so I’m kind of interested in practicing, but I also don’t think I’m in the mood to really suck. I’m too irritated.”

Getting to my feet, I take my clothes off. Before sitting back down, I stop at the door and put the chain back in place before lodging the door stopper under the handle so the door won’t even open.

Dak’s watching me with scrutiny. “Are you really worried about someone breaking in?”

Grinning, I drop back next to him. “No. But my bestie and a childhood friend who attends school here both have a key, and they use it often enough that when we’re literally anywhere else but in my bed, it’s safer to make sure they’re kept out. There are parts of me that they just don’t need to see.”

“Why did you give them keys?” he asks, his eyes already dropping to my cock. I’m not hard, but that doesn’t seem to bother him.

What this man is really asking between the lines of wanting to suck me but not really, is that he wants to explore without the pressure of performing. That’s fine. I’ll take his hands on me any day.

I grip his arm and pull him close, shoving him down to my crotch. He laughs, but goes and while he initially licks my crown, Dak adjusts himself so he’s mostly laying across my lap looking at my dick. Just looking with his free hand resting on my stomach.

“Because I was having an aneurysm at the time and thought it was a good idea. Before you get too comfortable, hand me my tablet.”

Dak twists to reach for it on the coffee table. “You’re not going to film me, are you?” he asks warily.

“No.” I turn it on and turn it around. “I’m going to either start over on this stupid thing or contemplate finishing it. ”

“While I’m sucking your dick? Do you have that much lack of faith in my skills?”

I grin. “No. But you don’t really want to suck my dick. Do you?”

He chews his lip, his eyes moving between mine and my cock. I brush my thumb over his lips.

“It’s cool,” I tell him. “I emptied my load last night. You want to play with my cock with no pressure, go for it.”

His cheeks burn, I can feel their heat. While I try not to smile, I also want him to know I’m not judging him. “I remember the first time someone let me just look and touch . There’s no real way to do that with your own. Having the freedom to do so when you know they’re not going to judge you for it is freeing and builds a lot of understanding and confidence. Besides, I enjoy your hands on me.”

The appreciation for what I’m offering him shines in his eyes. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

For the next twenty minutes, we’re quiet. As it turns out, this isn’t the easiest way to draw on my tablet since resting it on his head is a little awkward. I end up opening a new canvas and doodling more than anything.

Dak does just stare at my cock for a long time. When he touches me, it’s soft. A single finger running along my mostly soft length where it lies against my thigh. Eventually, he gains the confidence to truly touch me, lifting my cock and moving it around.

We adjust so he has more access to do what he wants, and he encompasses my balls into his exploration. His hand never stops moving. Even when it’s just lightly gliding over my dick.

While I try not to get turned on, I do chub up quite a bit.

“What’s your major?” Dak asks.

“Digital design. I initially began with art in general, but the idea of playing with paints and shit? I’m good.”

He smiles.

“Yours?”

“Nothing nearly as exciting. Business management.”

“What’re your aspirations with that?”

He snorts. “Having a degree that might actually do something for me. I’m aware that the world isn’t what it used to be where a degree guarantees you a job that pays well and shit. I primarily enrolled in college because I don’t know what I want to do with my life. My decision now will dictate the next sixty years of my life. I don’t feel qualified to make that kind of decision. Business felt like the path that would have the broadest uses, so this doesn’t end up a waste of time and money.”

It’s not something I can completely relate to since I’m definitely in a different boat than he is. Even so, I definitely understand what he’s saying. It makes me wonder what schooling is like in other countries. America’s school system hasn’t evolved in like a hundred years. Kids get out of high school and lack basic living skills like how to cook, clean, manage money, own a vehicle, write a resume. Everything that actually matters. They don’t know where Bangkok or Delhi is. They couldn’t find Sri Lanka if a million dollars was on the line. They have no idea how to regulate their emotions or accept diversity and embrace the differences in people.

They don’t know kindness.

But don’t worry, they know that pi is 3.14 and have been fed lies about how Europeans ‘discovered’ the new world and had a kumbaya moment with the indigenous here where everyone lived happily ever after.

“You don’t have any ideas about what you want to do with it?” I ask, pushing myself from my soap box before I get lost on an internal monologue rant.

“No. Not really. Probably this summer I’m going to be forced to think about it seriously since I’ll need to start putting a plan in place for when I graduate next year.”

I nod.

“What about you? What’re you going to do with your degree?”

A smile flits across my face because I have zero intention of doing anything with it. But then I look at the doodle I’ve been making while he plays with my cock. Maybe those horny boy pheromones have channeled into my hand because I’ve created an abstract design of exactly what I’m looking down on. Dak playing with my dick.

“Maybe I’ll draw nude images for commission,” I muse.

His eyes glance up and I show him what I’ve drawn. His cheeks burn. “Ohmigod, Sparrow.”

I laugh. This is my favorite drawing yet.