Chapter 5: Frat House Fuck
The dorm room was dark, the only light a pale blue rectangle from Harrison’s phone against his face. Gus had tapped out hours ago, yawning into his pillow and murmuring a goodnight before rolling over, his broad back a mountain range under the thin blanket. The soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing should have been soothing. To Harrison, it felt like a metronome counting down to his own confusion.
He stared at the ceiling, the comic book bonding session playing on a loop in his head. Gus’s blush when he’d called Vex attractive. The way his eyes had lingered on the drawn curves of another bottom’s body. Lesbian. The word echoed, sticky and uncomfortable. It didn’t repulse him. That was the fucked-up part. It intrigued him. It made his own pussy, already slick from a day of lazy arousal, twitch with something that wasn’t supposed to be there.
His phone buzzed in his hand.
Chase: Can’t stop thinking about that fat belly in that little blue outfit. U awake?
A spike of pure, uncomplicated desire shot through him. Yes. This was what he knew. This was what he came here for. A hot, busty Top who knew how to talk to a bottom. This was the script.
Harrison: Maybe. U gonna do anything about it?
Chase: Meet me outside your dorm in 5. I’ll show u.
Harrison slid out of bed, the floor cool under his feet. He didn’t change. The singlet and thong were his armor, his statement. He was what Chase wanted. What everyone wanted. He spared a glance at Gus’s sleeping form, a weird pang of guilt twisting in his gut. He pushed it down, replaced it with the image of Chase’s muscular chest, his buzz cut, his promises of worship.
Outside, the night air was warm and thick with the smell of cut grass and distant rain. Chase was leaning against a lamppost, a silhouette of perfect V-taper and round, full tits straining against a tight black tank top. He grinned when he saw Harrison.
“Fuck, look at you,” Chase said, his voice a low growl. He didn’t wait, closing the distance and capturing Harrison’s mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue was sweet, like he’d just drank something sugary. One big hand landed on Harrison’s belly, squeezing the soft flesh over the Lycra. “Even better than I remembered. A walking fucking fantasy.”
Harrison melted into it, the kiss, the groping hand. This was validation. This was easy. “You talk a big game,” he mumbled against Chase’s lips.
“And I back it up, baby. Come on.”
The walk to the Phi Kappa house was a sustained, five-minute act of sensual harassment that left Harrison breathless and dripping. Chase’s hand never left his body. It roamed from his belly to his ass, kneading the generous cheek through the thong, then sliding up to palm his chest, thumbing a nipple through the singlet.
“Love how hairy you are,” Chase murmured, his lips against Harrison’s temple as they walked. “Like a big, sexy bear. Makes me want to bury my face in it. Get my tongue all up in that wet cunt of yours, taste what all that good eating’s done for you.”
He punctuated his words with squeezes and pinches, each touch claiming and complimentary. “God, that jiggle. I’m gonna have you bouncing on my cock ‘til you can’t walk straight. Gonna nurse you ‘til you’re drunk on me. You’re gonna soak my sheets, aren’t you? Pretty, filthy boy.”
Harrison’s head swam. It was objectification, but it was the kind that made him feel like a prized possession, a masterpiece. Chase’s words weren’t cruel; they were reverent. Horribly, wonderfully perverted. His pussy was a soaked mess, the cool night air doing nothing to dry the slickness that soaked his thong.
The frat house was a massive Tudor-style building, thumping with bass from inside. On the wide porch, a few Tops lounged in chairs, smoking. They were variations of Chase—muscular, busty, wearing either low-slung jeans or athletic shorts, their chests prominent.
“Hey, fuckers, look what I found!” Chase called out, his hand giving Harrison’s belly a proud shake.
The Tops looked over, their eyes lighting up with immediate, friendly appreciation. “No shit! The move-in day masterpiece!” one said, a guy with dark curls and a lip ring. He stood up, smiling.
“Guys, this is Harrison. Harrison, this is Drew, Mikey, and Paul.”
Chase kept his hands on Harrison, steering him into the center of the group. “Go on, get a feel. He’s unreal.”
It wasn’t an order, just an enthusiastic suggestion. Drew, the one with the lip ring, stepped forward first. “Hey, man, welcome.” He reached out and gave Harrison’s belly a friendly, jostling rub, his other hand patting his shoulder. “How’s the dorm? Roommate cool?”
“Yeah, he’s great,” Harrison said, his voice a little tight as Mikey, a blond with astonishingly huge, round tits under a mesh bra, came up behind him and slid his hands around Harrison’s waist to splay over his stomach.
“Solid,” Mikey said, his chin hooked over Harrison’s shoulder. His thumbs stroked the lower curve of Harrison’s gut. “First year’s a trip. Classes picked out yet?”
“Mostly,” Harrison managed, as Paul, quieter, with tattoos snaking up his arms, knelt in front of him. Paul didn’t ask, just smiled up at Harrison and then gripped his love handles, giving them a affectionate squeeze before turning his head to nuzzle into the hairy flesh of Harrison’s lower belly. He took an audible, appreciative sniff.
“Perfect,” Paul sighed, his voice muffled.
“He smells like he tastes good, right?” Chase said, beaming. He then spun Harrison around by the shoulders. “Check out this ass. It’s a national treasure.” He bent Harrison over slightly, pulling the back of the singlet up and the thong aside just enough to reveal the top swell of his ass cheeks, the hint of his lower back. “Built for taking a pounding.”
Drew whistled, giving one cheek a soft, open-palmed smack. “A+ genetics, brother. Seriously.” His hand lingered, rubbing the spot. “Your dads must be proud. You settling in okay? Need any recommendations for places to eat?”
Harrison, bent over with his ass in the air, answered into the night. “Uh, yeah, maybe. I’ve just hit the dining hall so far.”
“The stir-fry station is legit on Wednesdays,” Mikey offered, his hands now smoothing over Harrison’s shoulders and back, a strangely soothing massage amid the groping. “Avoid the pizza unless you’re drunk.”
“Good to know,” Harrison said, and a helpless, aroused laugh bubbled out of him. The juxtaposition was surreal. They were talking about campus food while collectively molesting him, and it all felt… weirdly sweet. They were admiring him. Welcoming him. This was their version of a handshake.
Chase finally pulled him upright, tucking him back against his chest. “Alright, you animals, that’s enough. I’ve got plans for this masterpiece. He’s mine tonight.”
The guys chuckled, giving Harrison final pats and squeezes. “Have fun, man!” “Great to meet you, Harrison!” “Take care of him, Chase!”
And just like that, Chase was leading him through the heavy front door, into the roar of music and bodies. The hallway was packed, a swirl of sweating, scantily clad bodies. Chase didn’t stop, using his size to cleave a path, one arm locked possessively around Harrison’s waist.
“They loved you,” Chase shouted over the music, his mouth hot against Harrison’s ear. “Knew they would. You’re fucking perfect.”
He guided Harrison up a flight of stairs, away from the noise, down a quieter hallway. He fumbled with a key, shoved a door open, and pulled Harrison inside.
The room was standard-issue messy, but it smelled like Chase—cologne, clean sweat, and the faint, sweet scent of milk. A framed photo of his family sat on a desk. A letterman jacket was slung over a chair.
Chase locked the door and turned. The performative ease of the walk and the porch scene fell away, replaced by a focused, hungry intensity. His eyes, dark in the low light, traveled over every inch of Harrison.
“Finally,” he breathed. “All mine.”
Harrison’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum solo. This was it. This was what he wanted. To be consumed by a Top’s desire, to lose himself in the physical, to not have to think about confusing roommates or uncharted attractions.
Chase stepped forward, closing the final distance. The chapter of introduction was over. The night, for real, was about to begin.