Terry’s half-hour ended and he was happy to find he could swim fifteen laps in that time. Kyle kept churning along like he was in a race, yet his speed seemed so effortless. Terry watched him all the way as he walked around the pool to the showers. Aside from being impressed with the skill that came from supposed years of dedicated practice, Terry was mesmerized by Kyle’s fluid motions, his impeccable form, the way the light gleamed off the water that flowed over his body. With a grunted sigh, Terry decided not to use any hot water in his shower.
The next day Terry had his third Argumentation class. He wasn’t trying to catch Kyle’s eye, but he was disappointed regardless when the professor didn’t even glance his way. Instead, Kyle greeted the class and went straight into the lecture.
“I’ll give you guys the benefit of the doubt today and assume you did the reading, y’know, since you had all weekend,” Kyle said. “However, ten Brownie points to anyone who can summarize it in two sentences or fewer, but no run-ons.”
Eager to prove himself, Terry put his hand up firmly. Kyle’s eyes lingered on him for less than a blink before he called on a student at the other end of the room. Terry took his hand down and crossed his arms. The student Kyle had picked had clearly skimmed the reading, but was trying to make it sound as though she had done a more thorough job. She added unnecessary details between several long uhhs. Terry fought the urge to interrupt with a more succinct and comprehensive answer.
Kyle didn’t criticize the student. He merely nodded with a cursory, “Thank you.” He paced around to the front of his desk. “So by now I’m sure you’ve all had to argue something in your lives. No doubt you’re confident that you could win a debate or two about some of your favorite subjects. The purpose of this class, as I mentioned last Tuesday, is to not only help you win the majority of your debates, but to ensure you do so intelligently and without having to resort to ‘because I said so’ as a supporting argument.”
A few students chuckled. Kyle continued.
“There’s one thing you need to remember when you’re crafting an argument; the human brain is stubborn as all hell. Once it thinks it knows something, it will block out any conflicting information for the sake of preserving its own integrity, because if it’s wrong about one thing, what’s to stop it from being wrong about everything? It hates that. Remember that stubborn self-preservation when you’re trying to change someone’s mind, not to mention when someone is trying to change yours. If your evidence is falling flat, you either don’t know your subject well enough, or, more likely, you’re in the wrong.”
Even though Kyle wasn’t looking at him—and in fact had not looked at him since Terry raised his hand—Terry couldn’t help but think Kyle was trying to speak directly to him. Although it was true Terry hadn’t given him much reason to talk about their future relationship other than ‘because I want you to.’ I’m not being that stubborn. Okay, maybe my motives are a little selfish, but ultimately, I don’t need him. He could forget about how gratifying their experience in his car had been, about the feeling of Kyle’s cum trickling down his ass, about the things he still wanted to do with that cock Kyle had previously been oh so willing to share pictures of…
People were raising their hands again. Terry wasn’t sure why, but to be safe he half-raised his. He didn’t expect Kyle to call on him anyway. His suspicions were correct. Kyle didn’t call on him then or any other time, even though Terry knew the answers to nearly every question. For the last half-hour of the class, everyone was supposed to group up into four teams, spend twenty minutes formulating an argument about which season of the year was the best, then each group would have two minutes to convince everyone else. Terry offered to be the speaker for his group, and as he was the only one to do so, he finally had his chance to be heard.
Kyle’s face became stone when Terry stood up before his peers. As much as Terry wanted to make eye contact with him the whole time simply to glean something from Kyle’s expression, he did his best to be an engaging presenter and glanced neutrally around the room whenever he looked up from his notes about why autumn was, in fact, the best season of the year.
The class concluded with a vote for which team had the most compelling arguments, though no one could vote for their own season. Terry hadn’t contributed significantly more than the rest of his group in terms of talking points, yet he still felt a smug glow of pride when the majority of the hands went up for autumn. Kyle took notes with what Terry took to be a hint of resignation.
“Alright, that wraps things up for today,” he said. Raising his voice to be heard over everyone packing away their things, he said, “Remember to read the chapter on logos, ethos, and pathos for Thursday. There will be a quiz this time.”
Terry took his time, pretending to fumble with his zipper until he was the last student still seated. Kyle, on the other hand, was hastily packing things into his bag. He walked swiftly towards the door. Terry anxiously tried to think of something, anything to say before Kyle passed him. A question about the reading. A boastful comment about his team’s victory. A compliment on Kyle’s dress shirt. The words fought in his mind and on his tongue for what he would say.
What did come out of his mouth was a flustered, “G’day,” which sounded even more Australian because Terry had been trying to pronounce “Goodbye” and “Could I talk to you” at the same time but stopped short when he noticed how much he had flubbed it.
Kyle responded with a succinct, “Have a good day, Saliski.”
The formality took Terry off guard. None of his other teachers called him by his last name. Not even his boss at work called him by his last name. No one Terry knew at all called him by his last name. No one, except Kyle, apparently. Then again, Terry was used to Kyle calling him “hot stuff” or “Adonis” when they sexted. He sighed. Of course Kyle wasn’t going to refer to him as “Adonis” in class, but this was like being shoved out of a warm cabin into a dark and snowy forest with the door locked behind him.
“You, too, Professor Weiman,” Terry muttered. Even quieter, he added his own nickname for Kyle. “…you silver stud.”
* * * *
The one thing Terry didn’t like about driving his own car to work was he couldn’t sit back and read the whole way there. The distraction would have been welcome. Instead, he sat in traffic, sulking. As much as he wanted to blame this self-pity party on Kyle, twenty minutes of solid introspection made Terry realize how lonely he felt. Most of the friends he had made during his first stint at college had moved on and only offered the occasional ‘like’ on social media. He hadn’t stayed in one place long enough afterward to make any new friends. All he had was Paul, whom he had known since his first year of college, and Olivia, whom he had only known since she moved in to round out their lease a few months ago.
Then Kyle had come along. They hit it off. Terry liked having an older man shower him with compliments and suggestions for new ways to get to know each other. The Kyle Terry had met at the bar was confident, commanding, yet just as hungry for pleasure as Terry had been, and still was. His texts were flirtatious yet sophisticated, free of purposeful typos or silly innuendos. He told Terry what he wanted and what he was willing to do to get it. Terry had gotten a thrill every time he saw Kyle’s name pop up on his phone because he couldn’t wait to see what Kyle was in the mood for and to take a sexy photo to send back.
Professor Weiman, on the other hand, was borderline cold. He looked like Kyle. He spoke the way Kyle texted. He even had some of Kyle’s sexy smirk on occasion. The problem was that the Kyle Terry wanted, the one who sent him those texts and who had offered his body to Terry in exchange for the same in return, was not in that classroom, nor had he written to Terry for weeks. For that reason, Terry felt alone and abandoned.
Terry made an effort to appear cheery at work. The result came out more blasé, but at least no one asked if he had had a bad day. That question came when Terry returned home, dropped his neutral façade, and allowed himself to actually be sad.
“I’m older than you, pipsqueak,” Terry said mechanically. It was familiar banter, but at the time it felt overdone. Paul was Terry’s best friend, but he didn’t need a best friend right now. He needed someone like the Kyle from the passenger seat of his car.
“Want a drink?” Paul asked, holding up his own bottle.
Terry shook his head.
Paul closed the fridge and came to sit down next to where Terry had dropped himself on the couch. “Professor Sexy being a tiny butthole again?”
Terry sighed through his nose.
“You gotta move on, man. Let this one go. Find someone else.” Paul tipped his beer into his mouth. “Have you thought about joining one of those LGBTQ+ alliance clubs? Those are probably full of kids fresh out of strict households looking to explore their newfound homosexual tendencies.”
“No,” Terry mumbled. He didn’t want some inexperienced freshman. This wasn’t about finding a willing cum-dumpster, especially not one that would be a considerable downgrade from the last guy he shot a load into. That’d be like if the day he picked out his Subaru, the dealer had let him drive it around for a few days and then told him he had to give it back in exchange for one of those tiny smart cars. Sure, he’d still get from point A to point B, but it wouldn’t fit his lifestyle. He needed a good wilderness-ready vehicle that could carry all his stuff, just like he needed a man with a better grasp on what he wanted and a cock so tantalizing it wasn’t even fair.
“What are you gonna do instead, hm? You gonna keep texting him asking to hook up? Gonna show up at his office every day to remind him of what he’s missing? That’s what crazy ex-boyfriends do, and you two were mutual for, what, a week? Takes a special kind of crazy to get obsessive after that short of a fling.”
Terry covered his face with his hands. “I don’t want to have this conversation right now.”
“What if you and I went out together again this weekend? You could find a different one-night stand to get overly attached to.”
“Y’know, you’re being a dingleberry right now,” Terry growled. “Irritating and you just won’t let go. I know I can’t give up other men because the one I want doesn’t want me back. But you—It’s hard to explain without getting graphic.”
Paul sat back and folded his hands. “By all means, get graphic.”
Terry closed his eyes to relive that night. “He was everything I’d hoped for and then some. I felt like the luckiest guy in the bar. We were both…powerful, in our own ways. He came at me with this…sense of dominance because he was older, or whatever, but I was all, ‘Nuh-uh, you’re gonna submit to me.’ And he did. One look at my cock and he suddenly couldn’t get under me fast enough. Then I was the one who got to be dominant and powerful, except when he wanted to cum he had me on my knees in the backseat so he could finish on my ass, and I did it without question. There was something about him, something about us and our dynamic, that we just flowed. We both got what we wanted, but he left me wanting more. Now I don’t get more and I’m…” Terry pouted, “…cranky.”
“‘Cranky’ is a good word for it,” Paul said. “That or ‘salty.’ Either way, no good moping around the house. You and I are gonna go out this weekend. It’s decided. You don’t have to hook up with anybody, but it’ll be good for you to be around other options.”
The first thing that came to Terry’s mind was how he could let it slip to Kyle that he was going to go out and look for someone else. The adult part of his brain slapped him and told him not to be so fucking petty. The ever-present whiny and needy part of his brain continued its unending cry for sex.
“Fine,” Terry said. “But if you abandon me for some hot older guy I’m not going to let you live it down.”
Paul grinned. “Nah, I’ll do my duty as wingman and send all the silver foxes your way.” With a wink he added, “You can thank me later.”
Chapter 4
Terry had one final condition for going out; they had to avoid the club where Terry had met Kyle and any other gay bars close to campus. This resulted in an hour-long drive to the next nearest LGBT-friendly establishment, but Paul put a positive spin on it by saying it was another adventure Terry could add to his book, if he ever wrote it.
“You could dedicate an entire chapter to the guys you’ve hooked up with along the way,” Paul said. “Or maybe more, if any of them are worthy of more than ten pages of narrative.”
Terry lounged in the passenger seat, watching people and buildings go by out the window. He hadn’t traveled the world for sex. That chapter would be three pages long at most, and two of them would be about an Italian guy who had sat next to him in a café while they both watched the soccer match that was on TV, eventually leading to a quickie in the bar’s bathroom. Terry could still see the name he had written on a napkin for him, ‘Federico,’ along with his number and a request to meet up later that week. Unfortunately, Terry’s ferry to Sicily left that evening and he had never seen Federico again. He often wondered what would have happened if he had caught one the next day instead and spent that night properly fucking a sexy Italian stranger. A flicker of hope told him something like that might happen tonight.
The bar was busy, the way Terry liked it. He had always enjoyed places with many energetic people, whether they were outdoor markets, concerts, festivals, or even train stations with random flash mobs. Something about the buzz and the chatter made him feel better the moment he walked in. He and Paul picked up some drinks and went to sit down. Paul asked him about his classes, the ones without “Professor Sexy” providing a distraction. They essentially hung out the way they did at home, except every now and then they would comment on the other attractive guys around them.
About an hour and maybe half a dozen guys rated seven or higher later, Paul got up to use the restroom.
“Good luck with the flood of men that’s about to descend on your lonesome single ass,” Paul said over his shoulder, not even bothering to hide his smile.
Terry did get a few glances his way, but to his frustration, the only guy to approach him came at Paul’s heels. As cute as Paul was, Terry knew him too well to consider him dating material, yet Paul could get any guy he wanted even when he wasn’t trying. Terry reconsidered advertising his sign and measurements in favor of tattooing his best personality traits on his forearm so he could hold it up and attract men with that.
Paul introduced his new acquaintance. “Terry, this is Zander. Zander, this is the hot friend I was telling you about.”
To Paul’s credit, he had done his job as wingman well. Zander was one of the passing men they had given an eight-and-a-half rating—Paul had given him a nine while Terry went with a conservative eight—and he was looking at Terry with a glimmer in his eye that indicated he liked what he saw. “Nice to meet you,” Zander said with a seductive lilt.
“Same here, uh…Zander?”
Zander nodded. “Like the Buffy character, but with a Z. For the record, though, I was born before the show aired.” He sat down in the spot where Paul had been. “So, Paul tells me you’re a world traveler?”
“Yeah, I am.” Terry queued up some of his more interesting anecdotes in case Zander asked him about his adventures.
“Hmm…of all the places you’ve visited, which has the hottest guys?”
That was a disappointing question because Terry knew the answer Zander wanted. It was cheesy, but if Zander was looking for a bit of pandering then Terry could tell him, “This bar, right now.” Federico and his Italian brethren had been in Terry’s top three, though, along with Brazil and the Philippines. If he were to fuck his way across the world, he would stop in each of those countries at least twice.
To take the middle road, Terry made a stab at Zander’s nationality, judging from his sharp yet fair features and lithe muscular build. “German guys are pretty hot,” Terry said with a devil may care shrug.
“Ever go across the border for some Polish sausage?” Zander asked with
a wink.
Terry was impressed with himself for being so close. It took a few seconds for Zander’s flirtation to register. He wasn’t necessarily horny himself, but he’d had enough to drink that it didn’t matter. A cute guy wanted Terry to get in his pants. Granted, it was a guy Paul had fished out of a bar bathroom, and he was coyly trying to get Terry to make the first move, but if Kyle wasn’t going to let Terry have any fun…
“Y’know, I never did, and it was something I always wanted to try.” Terry drained his glass and set it down with a thunk. “Want to go somewhere quieter and…discuss cuisine?” The sober remnants of Terry’s brain cringed at the attempted euphemism. Zander, however, only reacted to the implied, “Yes, I will fuck you.” He led Terry out the front door while Paul waved them both off with a smile.
With the confidence of someone who had taken this path many times before, Zander led Terry out around the bar to a secluded alley. The brick of the wall was etched with guys boasting their conquests. One set of initials accompanied a cluster of tally marks. Whether this “JE” had fucked seventeen guys in this alley or had, himself, been fucked by seventeen guys was not specified. I wonder if one of those tally marks is for Zander? Good thing I brought condoms again.
“How do you want it?” Zander asked, unzipping his fly. “Me on my knees? Up against the wall?”
Terry’s lust was punctured by disappointment. With Kyle, there hadn’t been an awkward “So what do you wanna do?” stage. Kyle had seen what he wanted and pounced. This submissive indecisiveness was a subtle reminder that there’s always a catch. Terry could find a guy who hit all his buttons, checked off all the requirements, made him needy for more, but that guy was going to be unavailable. Then he could find an available guy who was cute and down to fuck, but that guy was going to lack the sexy confidence and authority that Terry craved.
Top in the Class Page 3
