The College Experience
Right now, on his knees, sucking off his professor, and staring at the ugliest shade of lime tile ever invented, all Christian knows is that nothing has changed.
The professor is making little moaning sounds in the back of his throat, and digging his fingers in Christian's hair. Blunt, nicotine-tinted nails gouge into his scalp and neck, and he gags a little around the professor's dick, which only seems to get the guy off a little more. Whatever. Christian's used to that. This is Mr. Troy all over again, except Christian's blowing him for grades instead of money, but it's the same general principle, and the whole point of it is that Christian always ends up on his knees.
When he left home, Mr. Troy had slid his hand down Christian's pants at the bus stop. Called him a selfish whore who didn't know any better, but he would come crawling back. You'll be grateful, too, you little shit bastard, grateful. You don't know anything about what it takes out there.
Six months later, he's figured out that it's exactly the same.
He's still the prettiest boy in the room, even if the Superman shorts have turned into plain cotton briefs and the occasional pair of boxers, and if he can't bring himself up to par, he can always get something else to come up instead. He's slept with six of his professors since he enrolled, sometimes when he needed to, and sometimes when he didn't, and they all talk dirty to him and think what they have to say is original. Whore. Bitch. Cunt. Christian's heard it all and it doesn't matter.
He's going to be somebody someday.
Sean knows that, Sean tells him that, Sean is confirmation of everything Christian's ever wanted. Sean's the one scraping him through classes so that these blowjobs are becoming less and less frequent, and Sean's the one that he can go home to after all of this is over. Sean's who he'll be with while this asshole he's blowing right now jerks off in some shitty apartment thinking about Christian's mouth on his dick. Sean's the one that Christian wants, and Sean's the one that Christian can't have.
He hopes this guy doesn't want anything more complicated than a blowjob, because Christian isn't in the mood to put his legs up in the air right now. He's getting a headache, and this guy's grunting at him like a third-rate porn star. Mm. Yeah. Take it, baby. You little bitch. He's fighting back the urge to yawn, so he swallows around the dick in his throat instead and hopes that prompts some kind of orgasm from the professor, because his throat is starting to hurt.
He's sick of this shit. The guy doesn't come and Christian isn't even remotely hard.
He lets his eyes close, and thinks about Sean, instead. Sean had said something about just the two of them tonight, and Christian didn't think he'd imagined the guilt in Sean's eyes. All that time spent fucking Julia over in the sorority house, and he hadn't had any time left for Christian. And so it was going to be them, tonight, a whole night spent watching Sean stretch out over the sofa and maybe giving Christian the opportunity to let their legs tangle without any awkwardness, but all of that's going to be ruined if this professor turns out to be straight after all. If there's no orgasm within the next ten minutes, Christian's just going to leave. Fuck his grades, fuck the professor left with his dick hard, this was the night he got to spend with Sean.
Some time with just the two of them, and not time spent tracing Julia's breasts where he thought Sean would have touched them. No more kissing Julia to get a taste of his best friend. Just Sean. Sean and Christian, McNamara and Troy.
The way it's supposed to be.
The professor comes, and Christian's hard, and he almost panics when the guy thrusts against the roof of his mouth while Christian's trying to swallow. Makes it pretty fucking difficult to get the job done right, but at least the guy finally tears his hands out of Christian's hair. Feels like he's bruised all along his scalp, all ten neat fingerprints in a row.
The professor looks at him with shiny, wet eyes. "Troy," he says, "next time it'll have to be more."
"Next time, I won't need it," Christian says, and stands, his legs quivering. "I've got a friend."
"People like you don't have friends. Just fuck buddies."
"He's not a fuck buddy." His dick aches and he wants to get somewhere fast and take care of the problem, but this asshole won't let him. "He's just a friend."
"You like doing this, don't you, you little whore? It got you hard just sucking me off. Don't even try to lie, I can see it for myself." The professor leaned forward, and Christian can smell his cheap cologne covering up the stale odors of sex and sweat. "You want me to fuck you, Troy? You'd like that, right?"
"It wasn't ever you," he says, and his shoes squeak on the tile when he leaves.
And if it's embarrassing to walk down the whole hallway with an erection before he can get to the bathroom, he doesn't care too much. He has Sean, tonight, and maybe Sean will help him study so that this doesn't happen again, and if they end up on the bed like last time with Sean's hand between Christian's shoulders, saying, Okay, I'll explain it again if you want, then it's all for the better. He chants in his head, McNamara and Troy, and thinks about how they'll be together forever, and all that romantic bullshit that he absolutely does not believe, and all he knows is that Sean will never hurt him.
They belong together. McNamara and Troy, words that are meant to last for the rest of his life.