Rumor Has It (Longwood U)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

DAK

After the day I laid with my head in Sparrow’s lap playing with his cock while we chatted (which did end up leading to a blowjob), I’ve been over everyday since. Sex happens in one form or another, but almost always, we hang out too. Before or after. Oftentimes both.

I can admit I’ve been there more than I’ve been back to my own dorm. I’ve thought a lot about what Sparrow said about how some people gatekeep the LGBTQIA+ community and have decided, based on Stephen’s actions, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

However, I’ve never considered myself part of the community. I’m an ally. A strong, sometimes vocal ally. I grew up in the community to some extent because of my fathers, and have been surrounded by members of the community my entire life.

But it’s different when I think perhaps maybe I’m kind of a part of it too. Everything feels different now. I need to know more things. All the things. Things that I hadn’t thought to ask before, and things I simply didn’t know about.

Knowing and really understanding what LGBTQIA+ stands for is one thing. I have a broad definition of each letter and what it means to be that person. But the entire community is nuanced and broken into what feels like a hundred different branches, each one beautiful and unique.

And each one part of the whole .

I don’t spend a lot of dedicated time researching, but when I can’t sleep at night, I begin scrolling some of my favorite queer community websites I’ve found. The more I read, the more I feel like I can identify with several things on some level.

Aspects of myself can be seen in so many things I read. The number of ‘ah ha’ moments has been… terrifyingly enlightening. I’m not sure if I feel like I can call myself queer, though. Which I think is in big part because of Stephen spewing poisonous opinions. It’s frustrating that the bullying comes from within the community just as often as it comes from without.

But the more I learn, the more comfortable with myself I feel. Not that I understand every facet of myself, yet. I have a feeling I’ll be eighty and still figuring out new things about myself.

Anyway, since the day I examined Sparrow’s cock—which was absurdly addicting to do, mind you—I haven’t been able to stay away. Some days I tell myself it’s not going to happen. We both need some space. We’re not in a relationship, so there’s seriously no need to see each other every single day.

Yet, there comes a point in the day when the desire to see him is far too strong for me to ignore. Which can’t be that surprising. This entire situation stemmed from the fact that I was weirdly obsessed with a guy I hadn’t spoken to, but stared at from afar every time I’d seen him for months.

I know without a doubt I wouldn’t have gone to Rumor had I not seen Sparrow first. Okay, I’m reasonably certain. Truth be told, I was never curious about dick. It’s not like I’ve grown up in a hetero world with very little exposure to gay relationships, either. Which has always given me confidence in my heterosexuality because I have been exposed to all kinds of healthy relationships.

It’s probably why this entire thing with Rumor threw me for a damn loop. I’m still confident the cameras and/or cameramen played into it a lot, but while I wasn’t freaking out, per se, I was confused.

Why this man? Why now? And then later, why only this man. I still don’t have an answer for that, except that in all my reading, I’ve learned some people just do it for you. For some unknown reason, I knew from afar that Sparrow did it for me.

Which is something I find amusing because those times I stared from a distance—and there were a fucking lot—it was never sexual. There wasn’t arousal involved. If I had to guess, that also fed into the confusion because all I knew was I was somehow drawn to this man. It hadn’t been arousal or sexual attraction. Just… something.

Apparently, being in a room with him with the promise of sex was enough to make my body say, oh, yeah, we definitely want to fuck him too. If I hadn’t been so shell-shocked to see him there, I probably would have…

I don’t know. I know something different would have happened, but I’m not sure what. Most of that first day had been me completely stunned at seeing my infatuation in front of me. Naked. Hard. Touching me. Kissing me. It felt surreal, like my imagination had taken a turn into insanity.

The cameras broke through the fantasy and that’s what made me run the first time. Every other time after that? Probably much of the same. Them being there completely pulled me out of the moment, giving the doubts and confusion half a second to take root, which was all they needed to incite panic in me.

And now I’m standing in front of Sparrow’s door, wondering if this obsession I first had has grown into something even more consuming now that I’ve touched him and tasted him and had his cock inside me. I shouldn’t be here.

Sighing in resignation, I knock on the door. I’m here and I’m not leaving unless he tells me to. It’s not like I’ll think of literally anything else if I go anyway. Might as well see if he’s willing to let me hang around.

The door opens and a feeling of relief washes through me that he’s actually here. He’s always been home when I show up, but a little voice in my head warns that he might not be or maybe he is and won’t answer because he doesn’t want to see me.

I’m not an insecure guy, but fuck… the voices in your head can be a real downer.

Sparrow smiles. A cute, somewhat cocky smile. It took me a while to remember to call him Sparrow instead of River. I ended up mentally chanting Sparrow, Sparrow, Sparrow one afternoon to rid myself of River in my head. For some reason, seeing his cocky smile has differentiated him from River to Sparrow.

He always has a confident smile, but there’s something different about this one from those I’d seen before coming to his room for the first time. It’s as if that smile says, I’ve been in your ass.

“Hey,” he says, and backs inside to allow me entrance.

“Hi,” I answer, kicking off my shoes as he locks up behind me. I appreciate that he’s already hooking the chain and driving the door stop home, even as my cheeks heat. “You have morning classes?”

He shrugs. “I have two online and two in person. Those in person are three days a week—one on Wednesdays and one on Tuesdays and Thursdays and yes, they’re mid morning. So I’m generally here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I don’t look at him because yes, that’s what I was asking, and I don’t want him to look too closely at the heat on my cheeks. Crossing the space, I take a seat on the couch and drop the paper bag I’d brought with me on the coffee table.

Sparrow pulls his shirt over his head as he comes toward me, and I immediately heat up. Burn from the inside out. While I’d like to say I have enough composure to look away, I stare. Unabashedly. Because he’s sexy. I’m not sure when he became sexy in my head, but he’s definitely sexy. Everything about him does it for me.

He climbs on top of me, straddling my lap. His hand tangles in my hair and he pulls my head back so I’m forced to look at him. Or maybe, so he can see how hot my skin is right now.

“Is that what you’re asking, Risk?”

His voice, low and sensual, makes me shiver. I try to stifle it, but there’s no way he didn’t feel it run through me. “No,” I say. Maybe it’s a lie. “You seem to be here whenever I show up, so I was curious.”

He hums, a clear note of disbelief in his tone. I’m thankful when he kisses me because it means he’s not scrutinizing my expression right now. Also, it’s hot and filthy and makes me groan. I grip his hips, pulling him closer, but then somehow find the strength to break our mouths apart.

“I brought lunch,” I say. “It’s best eaten when still warm.”

His head tilts to the side and the quirk of his lips says he finds this interesting. “You brought food, huh?”

“I’m hungry.”

His lips trail down my jaw. At my ear, he murmurs, “I’m famished. ”

“I think we’re talking about two different kinds of appetites.”

He hums and his hand drops to grip my hard-on. “Are we?” he muses.

Fuck, his hands on me drive me wild.

“Let’s eat first.”

“I’m not sure you’re aware of how your body works. We should fuck first.”

He’s not wrong. I’ve also looked into prep a lot, and how to keep my system working on a schedule so I can be fucked as often as I want to without any mishaps. Also, Sparrow rolling his hips into mine, pressing our dicks together, has me rethinking my determination to eat.

But I skipped breakfast and I’m fucking starving. “We can fuck later. You can fuck my throat if my stomach is suggesting it’s not a good idea. I’m seriously hungry.”

Sparrow nips at my ear, but nods and sits back. He never pressures me. Never makes me feel like I need to give him something, even if I want him to take what he wants from me. The idea of him taking me as soon as he wants me, no matter where we are, sends a thrill through me I can’t quite grasp.

“Take your clothes off. We’re eating naked.”

I laugh. He climbs off me and discards the rest of his clothes while I do as he demands. We return to the couch as he pulls the bag from the table and between us.

Lunch is just sandwiches that definitely are better hot, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they were cold. We eat in silence. It’s only when he’s off me and we’re distracted by food do I realize the television has been on the entire time. So I distract myself from my raging cock, and his, by watching TV.

Despite the charge between us, we don’t hurry through the meal. In fact, while I don’t necessarily soften much, I’m not overly bothered by my erection. When we finish the food, Sparrow pulls me against him between his legs, my back to his chest. His hand drops to my cock, but his touch is a lot like mine had been the day I explored him.

Maybe it’s his turn to explore me.

I relax into him, my attention moving between the television and his hand on me. Rubbing me, tracing me, tugging softly on my balls.

Closing my eyes, I let myself get lost in the moment. All the things I’ve been learning march through my head like a parade. I chew the inside of my lip as the thoughts drift through my mind, all while the sensation of Sparrow’s touch both relaxes me and makes me horny as hell.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks, his lips at the shell of my ear.

“How are you not even a little confused?” I ask. “Your method of disregarding sexuality and gender is fine and all—I don’t hate that in the least—but I still need to come to terms with some shit that leaves me feeling a little… like I don’t truly know who I am.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?” he asks, sounding amused. I shift so I can look over my shoulder and see his face at an awkwardly close angle. “I’m gay, Dak.”

My mouth opens. Then closes. “What?”

He laughs. “I’m gay. I’ve always been gay. I’ve known I was gay for… fuck, years. I don’t even know how long. Girls are pretty, they smell good, they’re remarkable, but they’re not for me and I’ve always known that. I’m one hundred thousand percent gay.”

Unexplained relief rushes through me, pushing the air from my lungs. “Isn’t that cheating?”

Sparrow grins. “Yes.”

“Do they know that?”

“I think at this point, they must have some inclination. They’d be pretty dense not to have figured it out. But I only show up on my own accord maybe two or three times a month, at most. Every other time I’m there, it’s because they’ve called me in. Asking me to tag back in or that there’s some flight risk there who wants to test my fucking edging endurance.”

I wince. “Sorry.”

He smirks. “It’s fine. We’re beyond that. But you’ve definitely earned the name, sweetheart.”

My sigh is mostly fabricated; I don’t even care what he calls me. “I feel like maybe I should have figured that out, huh?”

Sparrow shrugs. “The world likes to think you can spot a gay man from a mile away because of how they dress and act and talk. The reality is there are just as many who look like everyone else, and unless we volunteer that information, it’s not flamboyantly obvious. Which is probably why I was invited to Rumor to begin with.”

That’s fair. I have definitely witnessed exactly what he’s said many times in my life. You don’t look gay… Let me just pull out my rainbow flag for you, shall I? The number of times I’ve heard my Pops say that would probably pay for at least a semester’s tuition.

“Does knowing I’m gay change how you feel about being here?” Sparrow asks.

I shake my head. “No. But had I known earlier, I think I would have taken Rumor out of the equation and asked to fuck around outside of there earlier. I wanted it to be you, and I thought you were straight because that’s what Rumor is—gay chicken. Gay for pay. A window into sex work.”

“It’s a window into exploring your sexuality while giving you whatever excuse you need to justify it. Easy cash. Competition to be the best. To prove you’re not gay. Say what you want as the reason you went, but the fact is, if you weren’t interested or curious, you wouldn’t show up.”

“Way to call me out,” I mutter.

He chuckles. “Why did you go, Dak?”

“I still don’t have that answer, but I think it’s along the lines of what you just said. Something inside me was curious.”

I know what that part is too. The part that was obsessed with Sparrow from afar. I wanted to know why, and while it might have been a weird way to find answers, Rumor was the door that allowed me to find them.

They just took a wild turn.