The Freshman (Kingmakers)

by Sophie Lark

  We’re fucking out all our hurt and frustration, all the time of waiting, all the agony of being apart. We were pent up beyond endurance.

  Every time Anna starts to slow down a little, she leans over and inhales the scent of my skin and attacks me all over again, wilder than before.

  My cock is throbbing and throbbing. I can’t believe I haven’t cum yet. Only my body’s confusion is holding it back, not any kind of willpower I could possibly muster.

  She’s biting and sucking my neck, lightly licking my earlobes.

  Oh my fucking god, I’ve never felt that before. Of all the things she’s done, it’s the fucking ears that tip me over. I’m not going to be able to hold it anymore, I’m gonna fucking cum.

  I grab her by the hips, my fingers digging into her ass. I pull her close so her bare chest is tight against mine.

  Without meaning to, I groan, “I only ever want to cum inside you.”

  And then I completely let go.

  It’s like I’ve been hanging on to the edge of a cliff for hours.

  That orgasm is the most instant, perfect release, the throbbing pain of holding back instantly washed over with the intense relief of letting go.

  It’s a massive pheromone release. Chemicals flood through my brain and then through my whole body, emanating off my skin. They hit Anna like a wave and her entire body vibrates like a music note. She starts to cum again, shaking and thrumming on top of me, our bodies trembling along every last neuron.

  The feel of her pussy clenching and pulsing around my cock, while I shoot spurt after spurt of cum inside of her is the purest form of bliss.

  Nothing can match this moment. Nothing ever will.

  29

  Dean

  The last two months at Kingmakers are a living nightmare.

  Every day I watch Leo and Anna fall more and more in love.

  They go everywhere together, side by side, hand in hand. The whole school could be crumbling down around them, and they wouldn’t notice—they only have eyes for each other.

  Anna doesn’t feel when I’m watching her anymore, even when I’m staring at her. She’s lost all sense of anything that isn’t Leo.

  And Leo himself is even more insufferable. I hear his laughter echoing across campus, his stupid jokes and the sycophantic response of the friends that cluster around him.

  My hatred for him is a living thing that I feed every day.

  Every day it grows stronger and more powerful.

  I don’t really believe that I can get Anna back. I never really had her to begin with. But there’s one thing I’m determined to do: cut the fucking cancer that is Leo Gallo out of my life.

  My grandfather deserves his revenge. So does my father.

  Three weeks before the end of term, I call my father on the phone, using the bank of student phones that are only accessible on Saturdays and Sundays.

  The phone rings and rings for a long time without answer. He could be meeting with the Pakhan—the Bratva certainly don’t respect the Sabbath. Or he could simply be holed up in his room, refusing to answer.

  Just as I’m about to hang up the receiver, I hear him rasp, “What is it?”

  “Hello, Father,” I say.

  “Dmitry.”

  A shiver runs over my skin.

  That’s what he always called me. When I came to Kingmakers, I used the name my mother gave me. Perhaps that was a mistake.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” my father says.

  I need a reason to call him. There’s no such thing as “chat” between us, no such thing as “checking in.” Certainly not “missing you” or “wanting to hear your voice.” Those are ridiculous Western concepts.

  My father is still waiting on the other end of the line.

  I take a deep breath and ask him, “What matters more? Honor or revenge?”

  There’s a long silence in which I can only hear my father’s breath, which has a hollow, echoing tone. He was an athlete once—a swimmer, a polo player, a runner. Now he gets winded on the stairs.

  At last he says, “There is no honor. And there is no revenge.”

  I grip the receiver tight in my hand, pressing it against my ear as if that will force him to explain, to give me some sense of direction.

  “What, then?” I say desperately. “What am I supposed to be doing?”

  Another long silence, and then a sound that I can’t quite believe.

  . . . Is my father actually laughing?

  His strange, breathy chuckle turns into a cough. “Do you think I know, Dmitry?” he says with deep disdain.

  I slam the receiver back down, my face burning.

  FUCK my father. He’s weak, I’ve always known that. Weak, broken, and lost.

  I won’t be like him.

  I won’t look to him any longer.

  Only my grandfather had the right idea. What would he do if he were here?

  He would do whatever it took to achieve his goal. No matter the risk, no matter the cost.

  I can’t plan anything until I know what we’ll be facing in the third challenge. It’s a secret, of course—none of us are supposed to know ahead of time. No one is supposed to have an advantage.

  But I can assume that Professor Howell will be organizing it, as he did with the first two challenges.

  So for the final weeks of term, Valon, Bram, and I shadow Professor Howell everywhere he goes. We watch and we wait.

  Finally, three days before the competition, I see him begin to make preparations. I follow him as he leaves campus, scouting out locations. And then I trail him again as he goes down below the Armory and begins to fill the scuba tanks.

  30

  Anna

  Dating Leo is as easy as slipping into a warm bath.

  I wondered if it would feel strange holding hands with him, kissing him, being openly romantic with him. Instead it’s the most natural thing in the world.

  Even Miles doesn’t seem to find it odd.

  The first time he sees us holding hands, he just rolls his eyes and says, “Fucking finally. Are you both gonna stop tragically moping like somebody died?”

  “You don’t think it’s weird?” I ask him nervously.

  “Hate it to break it to you,” Miles says, “but you two ain’t subtle. You’ve had a real Sweet Home Alabama vibe since you were about twelve.”

  “Why didn’t you ever say anything, then?” Leo demands.

  “ ‘Cause of my finely honed sense of delicacy,” Miles says. “Also, I don’t give a shit. Fuck each other or don’t. Just stop sulking about it.”

  “That makes me feel a little better,” I say. If Miles thought it was gross, he definitely wouldn’t hold back in saying so. He’s about as delicate as a stampeding bison.

  “So you think everyone will be cool about it?” Leo says. “We haven’t told our parents yet . . .”

  “Oh, hell no,” Miles says. “Papa Miko isn’t gonna be cool about this at all. He’s gonna fuckin’ murder you, Leo. I thought that was obvious.”

  “Really?” Leo says, looking slightly green.

  “Oh, yeah. Like slowly and painfully. We’re gonna find little pieces of you all over Chicago. So definitely enjoy your last week at school. It’s probably all you’ve got left.”

  I can tell Leo’s life is flashing before his eyes. He’s staring at Miles blankly, not laughing at all.

  I grab his shoulder and shake it. “He’s joking, Leo.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  “Miles—”

  “Totally serious.”

  “Cut it out.”

  “That’s what Papa Miko’s gonna say. Talking about your liver, Leo.”

  I punch Miles hard in the shoulder. He just laughs and saunters off, calling back over his shoulder, “I want your Jeep, Leo! Leave it to me in your will!”

  I look up at Leo, whose eyes are taking up half his face.

  “He’s joking, baby. My dad loves you.”

  “He did love me. Before I deflowered his dau
ghter.”

  “I deflowered you right back. You think Uncle Seb is gonna be mad at me?”

  “No, he’s in too good a mood to be angry about anything.”

  “Why?” I say.

  “Oh, I forgot I haven’t told you this . . .” Leo says, his face lighting up.

  “What?”

  “No, it’s too good, I can’t say.”

  He’s as gleeful as a kid in a candy store now. There’s nothing Leo loves more than teasing me on the rare occasions where he knows something that I don’t.

  “Spill it,” I say.

  “What’ll you give me if I do?”

  I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists,” I say.

  “What about a barter?”

  I glance around. We were walking to our Chemistry class, and we’ve just climbed up to the third level of the Keep. There’s plenty of empty classrooms on this floor.

  “Alright,” I say. “I’ll make it worth your while. Now tell me, before I make use of all those handy Torture Techniques we’ve been learning.”

  “My mom’s pregnant.”

  I stare at him, mouth open. “Get the fuck outta town.”

  “It’s true. They told me back in January, but I was . . . you know. Kinda depressed.”

  I hesitate, knowing this is a big upheaval for Leo. One that I wasn’t always sure he’d actually enjoy.

  “Are you . . . excited?” I ask tentatively.

  “I really am,” Leo says. I can see the truth of it in his face. “My mom always wanted another kid. Maybe if she’d had one sooner, I wouldn’t be such a spoiled shit,” he laughs. Then, more seriously he adds, “She deserves this. And I’m excited, too. I’d love a little brother or sister.”

  “That’s incredible,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Yeah it is,” Leo says. Then, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the currently-deserted classroom belonging to Professor Holland, he growls, “Now pay up . . .”

  “We’re gonna be late for Chemistry . . .” I say.

  “I don’t give a fuck.”

  He pushes me up against the chalkboard, not caring if we get chalk all over the backs of our uniforms. He kisses me ferociously, his fingers already unbuttoning the front of my shirt.

  The whole length of his oversized body is pressing against me, crushing me into the wall. I love how huge Leo is, because it makes me feel small by comparison.

  What is it about sex that banishes all feminism from my brain?

  In real life I like to be strong and capable.

  But as soon as I’m turned on, I want to be lifted up, flipped over, and fucked by a man much bigger than me.

  Well . . . one particular man, at least . . .

  I drop down on my knees in front of Leo. I love how gigantic he looks when I’m in this position. His shoulders are a mile wide, impossibly high above me. And his cock . . . it already looks enormous, bulging out against the fly of his trousers . . .

  I unzip his pants, letting his cock fall into my palm with a heavy thunk.

  Leo’s cock is fucking beautiful. I mean, I don’t have a lot to compare it with, but it’s as smooth and brown and healthy-looking as the rest of him, thick with veins like his forearms. The head looks heavy and powerful.

  It’s completely masculine, until I run my tongue up the shaft to the velvet-soft head. And then I taste that skin more delicate than any other place on his body.

  The head of his cock fills my mouth, laying heavily against my tongue. I can feel it throbbing, several degrees warmer than his body.

  Kneeling is a subservient position, but the power I have over Leo when his cock is in my mouth is incomparable. I can make him groan and shake. I can make him beg me to keep going. And I can make him explode any time I want.

  I like to lick and suck until he’s right on the point of orgasm, then pull back, moving down to his balls to tug and tease, then bobbing my head on his cock once more to build up his climax all over again.

  It’s a game of submission and control, giving and taking. I could do this for hours, except that the classroom door isn’t locked, and I know someone could walk in on us at any moment.

  Plus, Leo has no patience today. He’s hungry for me, ravenous even.

  I’d planned to take him all the way to climax, but he isn’t having it. After only a minute or two of sucking his cock, he pulls me to my feet and bends me over the teacher’s desk. He yanks my skirt up around my waist and pulls my panties to the side.

  Then he thrusts his cock, still wet with my saliva, into my aching, throbbing pussy.

  It makes me so wet sucking him off. It’s almost more arousing going down on him than when he goes down on me. I’m more than ready to be fucked, and the feeling of that thick, hard cock driving into me is instantly and intensely satisfying.

  Each thrust slams my thighs into the desk. I’ll probably have bruises across the tops of my thighs tomorrow, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ve gotten plenty of sex-related bruises in the last couple of weeks and every single one of them has been more than worth it.

  Everything I do with Leo seems to lead to sex. When we spar in combat class, I have to fuck him after. When we’re laughing and teasing each other, there’s this extra edge of aggression now, this tension that can only be dispelled one way. We’ve been sneaking off to every possible corner of campus to satisfy the compulsion that neither of us has to hide anymore.

  The warm spring weather helps us. We can find quiet places off campus, out in the fields or down on the beaches, where we can lay down a blanket and strip each other naked in the sunshine to lick and kiss and touch each other for hours.

  It was on an afternoon like that when Leo found my last tattoo, the one I’ve never shown to anybody.

  It’s a constellation on my ribs, just below my heart.

  Leo traced his finger over it, saying, “What’s this one? You never showed me this.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Why not? What does it mean?”

  “It’s Leo,” I said. “The lion. I got it last year, when I thought you might not be coming to Kingmakers with me. So I’d have you with me, either way.”

  Leo looked down at my face, his eyes golden with sunshine.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I had already started to realize that I might be feeling something for you . . . something that you might not feel for me.”

  “I did, though,” Leo said fervently. “I did feel it. Long before I knew it.”

  After a moment he said, “What’s your constellation?”

  I laughed. “You know I don’t believe in that stuff. I got this because that’s how your mom named you. Not because I really believe in astrology.”

  Leo looked at me intently.

  “There is fate, though,” he said. “There is you and me, brought together at this one time in this one place, out of all the billions of years and infinite miles of space in the universe. Do you believe in that?”

  “Yes,” I said softly. “I do.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I’m an Aquarius.”

  “Then that’s the first tattoo I’ll get,” Leo said. “As soon as we get home. Just tell me where you want me to put it.”

  Leo turns me around on Professor Holland’s desk, turning me to face him so my legs are wrapped around his waist and he can kiss me while he fucks me.

  He’s got my long rope of hair wrapped around his hand, and he’s crushing my lips under his, driving into me so hard that the desk is shaking and I’m afraid its legs will snap off.

  As I start to cum, I think that I’ll tell him to get his tattoo in the same place as mine. So they’ll be touching when our bodies are pressed together just like this.

  31

  Leo

  It’s the last challenge of the Quartum Bellum, and the last week of school.

  In three days, we’ll be boarding the ship to go back to Dubrovnik, the splinter point where the Kingma
kers students will fly to every possible corner of the globe.

  Anna and I will be flying home to Chicago together, to tell our families in person that we’re in love, and we intend to be together.

  I look forward to that, and to a whole summer with nothing to do but spend every possible moment with Anna.

  Before I can do that, however, I’ve got to win this fucking challenge.

  My desire to win has come roaring back. It’s stronger than ever, but different than it was before. It’s not for me anymore. I want to make Anna proud.

  She told me she doesn’t care if we win or lose—“You already did better than anyone could expect.”

  But Anna deserves a champion.

  The Juniors are out. It’s just the Freshmen against the Seniors now.

  As with the previous challenges, I have no idea what we’ll be facing today. Even so, I’m not nervous. I’m not afraid. Anna will be with me, right by my side. I can do this.

  The Freshmen assemble on the field just south of Kingmakers, the same place that the second challenge took place. This time there’s no triangular pitch marked out in spray paint. In fact, there’s no sign of any challenge about to commence, other than a simple wooden box set on the grass—the sort of box that could hold athletic equipment, pinnies, or almost anything, really. Professor Howell, dressed in his usual olive-green fatigues with a silver stopwatch hanging around his neck, looks keen and expectant as the Seniors join us.

  Pippa Portnoy is standing at the head of her team, with Liam Murphy right beside her. Liam is an Heir in his own right, tall and fit, with a flaming red beard and a shock of hair in the same color, tied back with a thong.

  Liam is well-respected by his IRA soldiers, and he himself is quick and competent, one of the best marksmen in the school. Yet he defers to his betrothed Pippa. Which tells you everything you need to know about how clever and ruthless she must be.

  She’s watching me now with her dark eyes as bright as a magpie’s. She shows no irritation that she’s facing us in the final round of the competition, or that we stole her flag in the first challenge. If anything, she’s smiling in anticipation.