Chapter 2: Cum Redistribution
The bass from the party downstairs thrummed through the floorboards, a steady pulse that vibrated in Evan’s teeth. He stood frozen in Jake’s cluttered bedroom, the ghost of Lucas’s cum still cooling on his stomach. The command hung in the air, a challenge and a threat all in one.
“You coming, or what?” Lucas’s voice called from the hallway, already laced with the easy charm he turned on for everyone else.
Evan hurriedly wiped himself clean with a discarded t-shirt from the floor, his hands trembling. He pulled up his pants and followed the sound of Lucas’s laughter.
The party was a sweaty, chaotic crush of bodies. Red plastic cups littered every surface, and the air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and clove cigarettes. Lucas was already holding court in the center of the room, an arm slung around the shoulder of a giggling freshman from the costume crew. He saw Evan over her head and winked, a quick, secret flash that made Evan’s face burn.
He spent the next hour pressed against a wall, nursing a warm beer he didn’t want. He watched Lucas. He always watched Lucas. How he moved, how he touched people—a hand on a shoulder, a playful shove, all of it so easy, so effortless. The girl from the costume crew was practically glued to his side. A hot, sharp feeling, ugly and familiar, twisted in Evan’s gut.
He was about to slip out, to escape the noise and the sight of them, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
“Getting bored?” Lucas’s breath was warm against his ear, smelling of gin. “You look like you’re at a funeral.”
“I’m fine,” Evan muttered, trying to shrug him off.
Lucas’s grip tightened. “No, you’re not. You’re thinking too much. Come on.” He didn’t ask; he led, pulling Evan through the crowd, offering easy smiles and nods to anyone who looked their way, his hold on Evan’s arm never loosening. He pushed open the bathroom door and locked it behind them, shutting out the din of the party.
It was smaller than the one backstage, dirtier. A wet towel was piled on the floor, and the mirror was streaked. Lucas leaned back against the door, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.
“You’re jealous,” he stated, a smirk playing on his lips.
Evan looked away, at the grout between the tiles. “I’m not.”
“You are. It’s written all over your face.” Lucas pushed off the door and stepped into Evan’s space. “You think I don’t see you? Watching me all the time with those big, hungry eyes.” He cupped Evan’s chin, forcing his head up. “You got a taste backstage and now you think you own me?”
“No,” Evan breathed, his heart hammering.
“Good.” Lucas’s smirk widened. He turned around, placing his hands flat on the sink. He looked back over his shoulder, his expression a mix of defiance and invitation. “Bet you can’t make me squirt it all out before someone starts banging on the door.”
The air left Evan’s lungs. This was different. This was a reversal, a power shift that left him dizzy. Lucas was presenting himself, offering up the very part of Evan that had been so thoroughly claimed an hour ago. The condom. His own cum was still inside Lucas.
A boldness, hot and sudden, surged through Evan. It was fueled by the gin, by the jealousy, by the raw, aching need Lucas always ignited in him. He stepped forward, his fingers finding the waistband of Lucas’s jeans. He worked the button and zipper, yanking them down along with his tight white briefs in one rough motion.
Lucas’s ass was exposed, the muscles taut. And there, between his cheeks, was the evidence of their earlier act. The sight of it, glistening, thick, sent a jolt of pure, depraved heat straight to Evan’s cock.
He didn’t hesitate. He spit onto his fingers, not for lubrication, but for contempt. Then he pushed two fingers straight into Lucas’s hole.
Lucas gasped, his back arching. “Fuck…”
It was looser than before, warm and slick with his own release. Evan curled his fingers, scooping, digging inside. He pulled them out, coated in thick, opaque white. He brought his hand around, gripping Lucas’s jaw with his other hand.
“Open wide, princess,” Evan heard himself say, his voice a low, unfamiliar growl. He smeared his filthy fingers across Lucas’s perfect, smirking lips. “You’re my fucking dessert tonight.”
For a heartbeat, Lucas looked stunned. Then, a wild, approving light flashed in his eyes. His tongue darted out, licking at the mess on his lips. He opened his mouth and took Evan’s fingers inside, sucking them clean with a obscene, wet hunger, his eyes locked on Evan’s in the streaked mirror.
The submission, the sheer filth of it, broke something in Evan. He spun Lucas around, shoving him back against the sink. He dropped to his knees on the hard, dirty floor.
He buried his face between Lucas’s cheeks.
He licked into him, deep and messy, tasting himself, tasting Lucas, a salty, bitter, primal flavor. He ate him out with a frantic energy, his tongue probing and fucking into the slick, used hole. Lucas cried out, his hands tangling in Evan’s hair, not pushing him away but holding him there, grinding his ass back against Evan’s face.
“Yeah, you fucking pig,” Lucas moaned, his voice cracking. “Eat it. Eat my fucking load.”
Evan did. He lapped and sucked until Lucas was shaking, until his legs were trembling, until the only sound was their ragged, panting breaths and the wet, sloppy noise of his mouth on Lucas’s body. He didn’t stop until Lucas’s hole was clean, until he had consumed every last trace of what he had left inside him.
He looked up. Lucas was a wreck, his face flushed, his lips swollen, his eyes hazy with a high Evan had never given him before. The invincible Lucas was gone, replaced by someone trembling and vulnerable on the edge of a sink.
Evan stood up, his own arousal a painful throb. He leaned in, his mouth hovering next to Lucas’s ear.
“Now everyone will smell you on me,” he whispered.
He unlocked the door and walked out, leaving Lucas there, exposed and undone, the thunderous beat of the party swallowing the sound of the door clicking shut.