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"Straight" College Boys in Vegas

Chapter 4: Vegas Rules

Pete and I went straight back to my dorm when we got home. My roommate Devon looked up from his desk. He'd been in our friend group for years, one of the five of us standing in Pete's basement with our shorts down, during that first measuring contest back in the day. He was a lanky guy with a slightly underdeveloped five-o-clock shadow. 

"Sup boys," he said, "How was your little date in Vegas?" 

There was a pause.

"Let me guess," Devon added, "two dudes, one suite. Did you guys finally make it official?"

"I sucked his dick in first class," Pete said, digging through his bag.

Devon laughed and turned back to his desk. "Yeah, and I got my back blown out."

"My butt hurts," I said, trying to add to the fun of it. 

Devon tapped Pete on the arm. “Why are you crashing here anyway?”

"My mom is still mad at me. Might be more peaceful here."

“You could get a hotel. You could buy a hotel.”

"Shut up."

Pete dropped his bag next to my bed and bounced his butt down onto it.

Devon glanced at him. "Rich boy doesn't sleep on floors?"

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Lights out came and I lay there listening for Devon's breathing to slow, counting his exhales in the dark. Pete's hand slid over under the covers and squeezed my hip.

I rolled onto my side, facing the wall, and Pete molded himself against my back under the covers, his chest flat against my shoulder blades, knees tucked up behind mine. He worked my sweats down over my hip by feel, one small tug at a time, pausing after each one to listen for Devon. The room was narrow enough that I could have reached out and touched my roommate's desk chair, and past the foot of my bed he kept breathing in that same slow, heavy rhythm.

A cap clicked under the covers, so softly it could have been a knuckle cracking. He had dug the bottle out of his Vegas bag earlier, which was why the bag sat next to my bed, and I heard it squirt into his palm, muffled by the blanket. His fingers came back warm and wet, pressing against me, easing in, and I breathed through my nose while the stretch built and settled.

He put his mouth against the back of my neck. "Don't make a sound," he whispered.

It hit me that I was about to get fucked in my own dorm bed with my roommate an arm's length away. The fear just felt like freedom as I pushed back onto his fingers.

Pete lined himself up and pushed in with one slow, unbroken press, and I bit the pillow while my hole stretched around him and gave. He didn't thrust. The bed frame creaked if I so much as rolled over in it, so he stayed buried deep and ground into me instead, slow circles of his hips, his full weight pinning me onto my side, every motion a half inch of pressure instead of a stroke. It worked weirdly well. He dragged over that spot in me with every grind, and my dick leaked against my stomach with nothing touching it.

Devon's bed creaked across the room.

Pete froze instantly, seated to the base, his arm clamped across my chest. Devon shifted, mumbled, rolled over to face us. Pete's heart slammed against my shoulder blades and mine answered it, both of us holding one breath between us while my roommate smacked his lips and settled. It was the drink cart on the plane all over again, Pete flat and calm while holding a slippery hand around my dick, except this time what we were hiding was his whole dick parked in my ass.

Devon's breathing slowed and deepened. Pete waited another minute anyway, his mouth resting against my neck, before he started grinding again, slower now, and I pushed back to meet him.

When he picked up the pace I felt him hit deeper parts of me. He kept the grind tight, careful of the frame, but his hips started snapping at the end of each circle, little punches of depth that knocked a breath out of me every time. The head of him dragged over that good spot inside me, and kept pressing past it, reaching new pressure points that had never been touched, and my toes curled against the sheet. His breathing got rougher behind me, and his stomach flexed against my lower back with every push.

Devon's breathing stayed slow across the room.

His hand left my chest, slid up my throat, and he suddenly shoved two fingers into my mouth. They tasted like his skin, with a hint of the flavored lube, and I closed my lips around them and sucked instinctively, grateful to have something to do with my mouth besides breathe and make noise. He pressed them down flat on my tongue and my moans stifled around his knuckles. I sucked harder. He pushed deeper on the next grind, matching it.

Springs creaked across the room, and a blanket rustled.

Pete locked his position behind me again, buried to the base, and his fingers slid out of my mouth. Devon's head lifted off his pillow and he squinted at us through the dark, his eyes sleepy little slits.

"Are you guys cuddling?"

"No," I said.

A pause.

"We're fucking," Pete grunted, and he started humping me again, openly now, the blanket rolling over us.

"You guys are nasty," Devon said, and his head dropped back onto the pillow.

We kept at it. My heart hammered and Pete's thudded against my back, both of us waiting while his hips kept their slow roll, and after a minute Devon's voice came out of the dark again.

"Wait. What the fuck. Really?"

We ignored him and fucked louder. Pete quit muffling his breathing, and I quit biting the pillow, and the frame creaked loudly, for the first time all night.

"Fuck it," Devon said. "I might as well jerk off too."

I guess that made sense to him, as unexpected as it was to me. His phone lit up on his chest, and his other hand started pumping under his blanket while he peeked over the top of the screen at us.

Pete grabbed our blanket and threw it off us, and the cold air hit my bare legs, my sweats still hooked around one ankle, my dick bouncing hard against the sheet with every thrust. Devon kicked his own blanket onto the floor a second later. In the phone light I could see his fist moving. His dick looked thick.

He got up. My lanky roommate crossed our narrow room with his dick standing out of his boxers, and stood over my bed, scratching at his patchy stubble with his free hand.

"You want me to cum on you guys?"

"Sure," Pete said behind me, never breaking rhythm.

What the fuck, I thought, is everyone secretly a little gay?

Devon spat in his palm and started wanking hard, right over us. I reached back across Pete's hip and wrapped my hand around him. It was thick, thicker at the base than either of ours, with an upward bend to it, a whole different build from the only other hard dick I had ever touched like this. He exhaled roughly when I squeezed.

He shuffled up until he stood over the head of my bed, and he fed himself into my mouth. I relaxed my jaw and he fucked my face with short, careful strokes, his hand cupping the back of my head, while Pete filled my other end, and the two of them found completely unrelated rhythms on me. Spit ran down my chin. I moaned around Devon's dick and felt Pete thrust harder for it.

Devon pulled out of my mouth and leaned across me, and Pete craned his neck up and took him in next, sucking him greedily while his hips kept snapping into me. Watching that over my shoulder nearly finished me with nothing touching my dick.

Devon yanked out of Pete's mouth, pumped his fist twice, and squirted across both of us, hot stripes landing on my shoulder, my ribs, Pete's forearm where it clamped my chest. That hot spray did something to Pete. He swelled thicker in me, slammed deep one last time, and held himself there, and I felt his dick pulse in my ass while he grunted into my neck and unloaded. His hand reached for me mid-pulse and stroked me through it, and I squirted onto my sheets hard, three long pulses that made my legs straighten off the end of the bed.

For a while the only sound in the room was three dudes breathing.

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We walked down to the hallway showers together with our towels, and we had the whole tiled room to ourselves. Devon soaped up two shower heads down, lanky and pale and flat-stomached.

Devon and I shared a brief eye contact, and I felt like asking something.

"Was that your first..."

"You guys know my brother's gay," he interrupted. "We shared a room. You two are not the first dudes I've heard fuck from across a room."

"I hope that's where it ended," I said, and Devon just dunked his head into the water stream like he hadn't heard me.

"That explains a lot," Pete said.

"How long have you guys been doing this?" Devon asked through a bubbly stream of water running over his face.

"Like, two days ago. In Vegas," I said.

Devon shook his head and stepped back under his water. "So is this gonna be a regular thing now?"

"Vegas rules," Pete said.

"We're not in Vegas."

"Dorm rules," Pete said. "Whatever."

We came back from the showers with our towels around our necks, and Devon was passed out again within minutes, one arm hanging off his bed. Pete climbed into mine, still warm from the water, and tucked himself against my back, his damp hair cold against my neck.

"Are you in love with me?" I whispered, a random thought occurring as I drifted off to sleep.

He didn't move for a second. His heavy arm stayed draped over my ribs.

"Do you like the sex?" he whispered back.

"Yeah."

"So it doesn't matter."

He squeezed me once, and I fell asleep before I could think of anything to say back to that.