“No need. You want something to drink?” I asked, getting myself a Diet Dr Pepper out of the refrigerator. Soda makes you bloat, but I kept some on hand for a treat every once in a while. After the weird thing with Jay, I felt like I deserved some kind of treat.

“A Diet Dr Pepper would be great,” he replied, removing reference books from his backpack.

I walked into the living room carrying his can of soda. He took it from me, and I sat down on the couch next to him. “Your topic is the Thirty Years’ War? When is this due?”

He nodded. “Yes. And it’s due on Monday.”

“Nothing like waiting to the last minute,” I said, and I laughed. “But you’re not going to get a good grade on so broad a subject. I mean, historians write books on the subject and can’t get everything in,” I explained. “All you’ll be able to do is oversimplify everything, and I’m sure your professor is sick to death of that kind of paper.”

He grinned at me and shrugged. “That’s why I’m here.” He frowned, knitting his eyebrows together. “What do you suggest?”

“One of the most interesting dynamics to this religious war is the fact that Catholic France—led by a cardinal, no less—intervened on behalf of the German Protestants,” I replied. “Cardinal Richelieu was one of the first modern statesmen; he was able to look past the religious question and realize it was in the best interests of the French to side with the Protestants, to break the power of the Catholic Hapsburgs. By doing so, he made France the preeminent power in Europe.” I shrugged. “That should be your thesis.”

“You sure know a lot about this.” Brandon started bouncing his legs on his toes. His left knee brushed against mine.

“I wrote a paper about Cardinal Richelieu’s contributions to the Thirty Years’ War in high school,” I replied. He stopped bouncing his legs and slid down on the couch a bit. He spread his legs out wide, and his knee came to rest touching mine. I picked up one of the books from the coffee table, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. Is he hitting on me? Or had it just been an accident since we’re sitting so close? I flipped the book open to the index and found RICHELIEU, CARDINAL. I marked the page with a Post-it note and scanned the entries. “At that time, it was truly shocking that France . . .” I let my sentence trail off. Brandon’s hand had dropped to my inner thigh. I turned my head. “What are you doing?”

He gave me his gap-toothed grin. “Do you mind?”

I swallowed. “Well—” I licked my lips. “No, not really.” His hand slid up my leg. I put the book down and leaned back into the couch. “Is this why you asked me for my help?” I swallowed. “It’s not like we have a lot of time to work on this paper, Brandon.”

His hand reached my crotch and he let it rest lightly on my stiffening cock. He leaned into me and kissed the side of my neck. “I really need help with my paper,” he breathed against my neck, “but I kind of need help with my hard-on, too.” He took my left hand and pressed it against his hardness.

I choked down a laugh. It was like dialogue from a porn movie—a bad porn movie. But the hardness I could feel through the thin nylon was rather impressive. I closed my hand around it, and he moaned, closing his eyes. “Yes,” he breathed, “oh, yes.” He opened his eyes. “Can we go into your bedroom?”

“Okay.” I stood up and started walking toward the hall, but he grabbed me from behind and swung me up into his arms easily. “Damn, you’re strong.” I put my arms around his neck.

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me since we came back this semester.” He carried me down the hall and put me down on my bed. He smiled down at me and pulled his tank top over his head.

I’d seen him shirtless before on the dance floor at Fusions but had never paid a lot of attention—I had always been focused on Chad. I’d always thought Brandon was hot, but I’d never realized just how hot. His torso was hairless other than the path of curly dark hairs trailing down from his navel. I’d never noticed how broad and muscular his shoulders were, or how thick the muscles of his upper arms were. Veins bulged in his forearms. His stomach wasn’t ripped but was completely flat, and two deep lines descended from his pelvic bones to disappear inside the waistband of the sweatpants. Just below his ribs, two abdominal muscles stood out above the flat plain beneath, but as he moved, the lower abdominal muscles popped out as well, disappearing again when he put his arms down. He kicked off his sandals, hooked his thumbs inside his waistband, and pulled the sweatpants off in one fluid movement. He placed his hands on his bare hips and just stood there for me to take it all in. His cock was long, thicker at the base, and narrowing as it reached his thick mushroom-like head. His pubic hair was trimmed short, and his balls were shaved hairless, nice and plump beneath the branch of his cock. His legs were also smooth—not defined but solid in their muscularity and the smoothness of his skin. I reached out with my right hand and stroked his left leg.

His skin was softer than I would have thought, and silky to the touch.

He climbed onto the bed, getting on all fours and then leaning down to kiss my neck. His tongue darted out and ran down my neck, making me shiver with desire. He undid the button of my shorts and yanked down. I lifted my ass, and my shorts and underwear slid down my legs. I pulled my shirt off and tossed it over into the corner.

“Wow,” Brandon said, his eyes widening. “You have a huge cock.”

“I do?”

He kissed the head of it, and a bit of pre-cum leaked. “Oh, yeah.” He smiled up at me. “It’s big, man, one of the biggest I’ve ever seen—outside of a porn movie, that is.” He opened his mouth and took the tip inside, swirling his tongue around it.

“Oh . . . my . . . GOD,” I moaned, putting my hands beneath my head as he started sliding his mouth up and down over it. His right hand came up and started pinching my right nipple, and involuntarily I thrust my hips upward.

He gagged a bit, letting me slide out of his mouth. A string of spit extended from the head to his mouth, and he wiped it away. He winked at me, and whispered, “Don’t do that, man.” He pulled on my nipple again. “It’s too big—let me work it my own way. You won’t be sorry, I promise.”

“Sorry,” I whispered, and I actually was. “It was a reflex.”

“Just relax and let me worship this monster the way it deserves to be worshipped.” His left eye slid shut in a wink.

He certainly knew what he was doing.

After a few moments, I stopped him. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”

“Don’t want that.” He licked the head of my cock one last time before straddling me. I handed him a condom, and he opened it, sliding it down over my cock. He grabbed the bottle of lube from my nightstand, squirted some into his hand, and slicked up my cock. He winked at me again as he maneuvered himself down on top of me. His eyes closed as I entered him. “Oh, damn, that’s big,” he muttered, inching down a bit more before stopping again. “Man, I don’t know if I can take all that.”

“Take it,” I growled. I was already close, and this teasing with his tight asshole was going to make me come.

He stuck his tongue out at me and grinned. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and slid all the way down. “Oh, yeah,” he moaned, and started riding me. He held me down so I couldn’t move—he really was strong—not letting me arch up or try to take control. He started moving up and down, slowly. He would go all the way up until just the tip was inside him, and then slide down really fast before going up in slow motion again.

“Dude, I’m really close,” I said again, and he opened his eyes.

“So am I,” he whispered, and he slid down again.

He cried out when he reached the bottom, and he started coming. Warm drops shot out of his cock, hitting me on the face, on the chest, and all over my abdomen. He jerked spasmodically with each shot, an involuntary cry coming from his lips.