by Andy Gallo
Isaiah growled, choking Darren’s fingers in his grip. “I am going to kill him. I messaged him to clear the room. Not his wardrobe.”
Darren laughed and helped Isaiah to remove the satiny ties.
Inside the dorm room, Isaiah tossed the offending clothes to the side—along with Darren’s bag—and before Darren could take in more than two beds and half-open blinds, Isaiah shoved him against the closed door.
His back met cool, hard timber; his front met hot, hard Isaiah.
On impulse, Darren thrust against him, hands sliding up Isaiah’s biceps. Too much material between them.
Isaiah drew back, lips raw, skin red from Darren’s stubble. “God, I want you.”
In all ways? Or just this one?
Darren shoved the thought as deep as he could. He could damn well dwell on that later.
He kicked his shoes off in a rush—Isaiah was already peeling off his socks. A rush of heat met a moment of nervousness, and Darren paused at the sight of the blue-quilted bed.
Isaiah’s gaze shot quizzically to his, and Darren dropped onto the firm mattress and hauled Isaiah on top of him. His heart galloped as Isaiah straddled him, clenching his thighs either side of his hips.
The sun cast chunks of horizontal light through the slatted blinds, and soft shadows fell over Isaiah’s eyes. Light glowed over the lip he was biting as he thrust shallowly against him. More light layered the middle of his chest, his inked bicep, the waist of his pants where a sliver of toned flesh winked at Darren.
God, Isaiah looked hot as fuck, a sinful spark in his eye.
He also looked . . . experienced.
Darren tentatively rocked his hips into Isaiah’s dry thrusts, eliciting a hitched breath.
Maybe he hadn’t quite as much experience, but he had enthusiasm on his side, and Isaiah was hot.
Isaiah shuffled his shirt up to his throat, fingers grazing over the hairs at his chest. A palm landed hot over his belly button, and Isaiah’s eyes seemed to turn to liquid as he fingered a path over Darren’s stomach. “It’s been driving me crazy, how much I wanted to feel you like this.”
Darren bucked under him. “Kiss me.”
“Oh, hell yes.” But Isaiah didn’t claim his lips. He dipped down and paved soft kisses up Darren’s stomach.
Oh fuck. Fuck. That felt good. A sharp nip at his left nipple had Darren jerking, his dick throbbing.
“Found a spot, did I?”
And how. Darren bolted up, clamping his hands around Isaiah’s ass, and locked their lips. His fingers fumbled as he yanked off Isaiah’s shirt—and then his own—but he somehow managed to toss them to the floor. He nipped at the soft skin under Isaiah’s ear all the way to where his neck met his shoulder.
Isaiah rolled his neck back and cursed, ass grinding insanely against Darren’s lap.
This guy was perfect, and Darren was so fucking hard for him. Fuck experience. He knew what he wanted.
He flipped Isaiah onto his back and pinned his weight atop him. Isaiah chuckled against his ear, and Darren wasn’t sure what he loved better—Isaiah’s breath tickling against his sensitive skin, or their hard, naked stomachs jammed together. The latter. Both.
More.
He slunk down Isaiah’s front, tasting his slightly salty nipples and goose bumped skin. Light feathered over Isaiah’s stomach, and Darren looked up at Isaiah as he pressed a kiss to his sternum. Isaiah watched, propped on his elbows, lips slackened with lust.
Their gazes caught, and Darren flicked his tongue into Isaiah’s belly button. Isaiah undulated under him, and his cock twitched against Darren’s chest. He did it again, and Isaiah dropped his head back and cursed.
Darren smirked and spoke against the wet skin. “Found a spot, too.”
“Holy shit, Darren.”
Isaiah hauled him up, begging for his fucking tongue down his throat.
Their lengths meshed, and Darren poured himself into the kiss. Isaiah squirmed, empowering Darren, making him want more, and Christ, now.
He thrust urgently against Isaiah, and this time when their eyes met, Darren saw other lust-filled questions.
His lack of experience simmered to the surface, and his confidence hitched.
Isaiah seemed to read him, because he smiled gently and steered Darren into a sitting position. His gaze darted all over Darren like he was deciding where to continue first. Their bare chests crushed together as Isaiah tilted his head for another kiss.
Strong, steady hands pushed Darren onto the mattress until he and Isaiah were lying side by side. A cotton pillow cushioned their heads, smelling of the shampoo Isaiah used.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Darren said throatily.
Isaiah reached out, his eyebrow quirked, and Darren nodded.
Slowly, not taking his eyes off him, Isaiah unbuttoned his pants.
We are something, aren’t we?
Darren drove the inches between them and caught Isaiah’s lips softly.
A responding hum flitted into his mouth, and Isaiah sank his fingers inside his trunks.
Darren bucked his hips, and Isaiah wrapped a warm, clammy hand around his leaking cock. “Fuck,” he gasped and thrust his tongue inside Isaiah’s mouth.
He skimmed his hands down Isaiah’s back and glided his fingers between Isaiah’s boxers and skin. He cupped Isaiah’s smooth ass and tugged him closer.
“Pants off,” Isaiah moaned.
Darren lifted and shoved his jeans over his hips. A few wriggles and kicks later, he was free, cock bobbing rigid between them. A grin acknowledged Darren’s haste, and Isaiah mimicked it, freeing himself from the last of his clothes.
For a breathless second they stared at each other, lying face-to-face, naked, cocks straining for touch.
Darren’s voice shook. “You’re so beautiful.” He trailed fingers over Isaiah’s hip.
Isaiah slid his leg between Darren’s, pressing their hard lengths together. So much sensation. Darren clutched Isaiah’s waist, stilling him from rocking. His breath shuddered out of him, and Isaiah nuzzled against Darren’s neck. Right at that—fuck, yes—that spot below his ear.
Darren arched needily against him.
Kisses peppered down his chest.
“God, I love your body.” Isaiah bit his nipple lightly, kneading his chest hair.
Darren’s dick twitched, bumping Isaiah’s stomach, and Isaiah’s growl vibrated over his skin.
“Fuck, I need . . .”
Isaiah grabbed Darren’s straining cock and stroked, long and slow. Another garbled plea slipped from him, and he dropped his head back against the pillow.
Wet heat sheathed his cock, and Darren clutched the sheets, squirming. “Oh, God!”
Isaiah torturously pulled off and straddled his chest. Darren got an eyeful of perfect ass and about came on the spot.
Isaiah’s cock leaked against his chest, and . . . maybe he wanted Darren to suck him at the same time?
“Shuffle back,” Darren murmured. “I’ll suck you, too.”
“Not yet,” Isaiah said, sparing him a wink over his shoulder. “Let me take care of you first.”
He leaned forward and swallowed all of Darren’s cock, nose brushing against his balls.
“Oh, fuuuuuck.”
Hands squeezed his ass, urging him deeper, and Darren thrust up into Isaiah’s throat. Isaiah knew just how to angle, keeping his lips firmly at the base of Darren’s cock. Darren palmed Isaiah’s ass, gripping him as he canted his hips. “I’m gonna come.”
Isaiah lifted off him and gasped for air. “I want to taste every bit of you.”
He breathed in deep and plunged back down, blasting Darren with sensation. Darren gasped and instinctively drove his cock in and out of Isaiah’s throat.
His nerves sizzled, and his skin tingled.
Isaiah pulled up, gulped another lungful of air, and dove back down, squeezing his sensitive cockhead.
“Isaiah . . .”
Isaiah kept his head firmly in Darren’
s crotch.
The first salvo sent Darren jumping off the mattress, burying him deeper in Isaiah’s throat. He came and came.
Isaiah drew his mouth to the head of his cock, sucking hard, pulling every last mind-blowing dreg out of him.
Darren collapsed onto the bed. Boneless.
Isaiah spun around and grinned. “Like that, did you?”
“Oh, God.” Darren reached up and pulled Isaiah into a deep kiss, tasting his come. It turned him on. Their tongues danced, and Darren twisted until he had Isaiah squirming beneath him. “Your turn.”
“If you don’t want to—”
Darren pressed Isaiah’s hands to his sides. He might not be good at this—or know how to deep throat—but he’d give Isaiah the best he could. “I do want to, and I will.”
He inched down flushed skin until Isaiah’s leaking cock bumped against his bottom lip. He really wanted to do this.
He darted his tongue over salty pre-come. Isaiah moaned, emboldening him. He sucked his tip into his mouth, and reveled when Isaiah stuttered a curse.
Isaiah, wanton and coming apart at his clumsy ministrations, had tenderness sweeping through Darren’s chest.
He wanted to be with Isaiah in every intimate way. To hold him. To call him his boyfriend.
He ran his tongue around Isaiah’s cockhead, and slowly slid his lips up and down Isaiah’s length. Explorative. Appreciative.
He flicked his tongue back and forth on the underside of his shaft—
“Oh fuck, yes.” Isaiah bared his throat, his body arching for more. “Keep doing that.”
Darren gripped Isaiah’s base and tongued his head as he stroked.
“Fuck, yeah.” Isaiah threaded a hand through Darren’s hair, teasing the tips. “God, that’s good. Getting close.”
Isaiah’s other hand flew up, gripping his hair. Darren applied more pressure with his tongue and fingers, and Isaiah’s cock thickened in his mouth. For a thrilling second, Darren wondered what it would be like to have Isaiah buried inside him, thickening inside him.
He moaned at the thought and Isaiah came with a muted shout. Darren didn’t stop tonguing Isaiah’s cock until it stopped twitching. “Fuck, wow.”
Isaiah trembled, and Darren looked up at him.
Isaiah let out a heavy breath, slipped his hands under Darren’s arms, and dragged him up for a kiss. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”
Darren couldn’t lie, he loved the stroke to his ego. He grinned cockily, and Isaiah rolled his eyes with barely suppressed amusement.
“We should definitely do that again.”
Hell yes. Darren collapsed onto warm, sweaty body. He snuggled his head into the crook of Isaiah’s neck and shoulder.
An arm snaked around his waist; he closed his eyes and breathed in Isaiah’s scent. Isaiah’s heart pounded like his own, his breath puffing over Darren’s hair. Fingers danced up the side of his body. Isaiah, playing his skin like ivory keys.
“We are together, right?” Darren whispered, gently squeezing Isaiah.
Isaiah purred softly and kissed the top of Darren’s head. “You bet your ass we are.”
Chapter Twenty
Isaiah
An alarm buzzing woke Isaiah. He stirred, and gently rubbed the chest he’d been resting on.
Darren’s eyes opened, a frown pinching his brow. It faded the second his gaze soaked in Isaiah.
With a sleepy grin, he stretched his warm limbs across Isaiah and turned off the alarm.
Isaiah breathed in Darren’s musky scent. “Good call, setting the alarm for eleven.”
Darren hovered over him, dropped his phone to the pillow, and ran his fingers over Isaiah’s jaw. “I could’ve slept all night. You’re extremely comfortable.”
The gentle touch skipping down his throat to his chest made Isaiah shiver. His cock immediately hardened. How the hell was he supposed to work with Darren? Every look and stray touch would set him off.
Oh, fuck. How was he supposed to work with Darren? This scholarship thing still stood between them.
“Why do you want to win so bad?” he blurted.
Darren rolled off him with a groan and ground his palm against his head.
Isaiah wished he hadn’t asked. Wished he could take it back. “Forget it.”
“No.” Darren turned and faced him. “The truth? This program is a Gage tradition. It means—fuck, it means everything to my dad. He’s been excited about me following in his footsteps for years.”
Darren’s eyes glistened and he looked away from Isaiah sharply. “If I win, he’ll see me again. God, I want him to see me again.”
Sympathy and understanding and frustration tickled in Isaiah’s throat. He wanted to say something—show he got it—but all he could do was nod.
He didn’t realize until Darren said it how much he’d hoped Darren would have a stupid, easily overcome reason for pursuing it.
But Isaiah got him.
If his dad had drawn away, he’d have chased him to the ends of the earth and back.
Fuck life for being so messy.
Another alarm sounded, and Darren cursed under his tongue. He grabbed his phone and rolled off the bed. “Bad call, setting the alarm for eleven. There’s no time to unpack this fun conversation.”
He said it with a lighthearted growl that broke the tension, and Isaiah chuckled. Yeah, he didn’t want to talk about the thing between them right now. Or at all, if he could have one wish from the universe.
Isaiah swung his feet out of bed and hauled Darren back by his naked hips. He bent his head toward Darren’s hard, bobbing cock, pausing to wink at Darren.
Darren rocked up a brow. “I have, like, sixty seconds.”
“Time me.”
Stuffing his book into his pack, Isaiah stared at the board. Damn. He should’ve paid more attention to the lecture. Hard to focus on sustainable business strategies when all he wanted was his lunchtime date with Darren to roll around.
His phone vibrated and he turned it over. He paused, frowning. He’d expected a text from Darren, not an email from his Gage Scholar faculty advisor.
Students pushed past him, eager to exit the lecture theatre, as Isaiah scanned Professor Linton’s email.
What the fuck?
Isaiah read it again, slower, trying to comprehend it. His hands shook as he absorbed the contents.
“No fucking way!” The last stragglers in the lecture hall turned their heads toward him.
Isaiah scrolled once more through the email, then stormed up the steps.
Outside, Isaiah searched his contacts for Jenkins’s office number. His heart slammed against his chest when the assistant answered.
“Harrison University. President Jenkins’s office.”
“This is Isaiah Nettles. I need to speak to President Jenkins.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Nettles, but he’s not available.” She didn’t sound the least bit apologetic.
“This is really important. Can you ask him to take my call, please?”
“The president is in a meeting. I’ll let him know you called.”
“But—”
“I’ll give him your message.”
“I—”
“Is there anything else, Mr. Nettles?”
“No,” he said between gritted teeth. He disconnected the call. No way would Jenkins call him back.
A notification flashed on the top of his screen.
Darren: Morning, handsome. Can’t wait to see you for lunch.
His heart banged about in his chest, emotion balling in his throat. How did he answer Darren on the tail of Linton’s email?
Dizziness washed through him and he staggered to a nearby bench to call Nico. “Please pick up.”
Each ring increased his anxiety; finally on the third ring, the call connected. “’Saiah?” Nico sounded groggy. “Why are you waking me on my sleep-in day?”
Isaiah babbled indecipherably.
Nico’s tone sharpened. “Whoa. Start over. What happened?”
“They’re going to take my scholarship away and kick me out of school because I’m dating Darren. I’m so screwed.”
“Hold on, who’s taking your scholarship away?”
“Professor Linton sent me an email warning me that if I don’t stop dating Darren, I’ll lose my scholarship.”
“Your advisor, Linton? He can’t do that.”
“Well, he was quoting Jenkins, who was quoting Darren’s dad.”
“You’re not making any sense, ’Saiah. Where are you? Come back to the room.”
Isaiah’s voice choked in his anxiety. “Right.”
“Forward me the email so I can read it while you’re on the way.”
Nico sat on the bed with his laptop in front of him.
The hope his roommate had found a solution faded when he saw Nico’s face.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Isaiah felt like throwing up.
“Sit down. Let’s talk about this.” Nico moved aside, giving Isaiah a place to sit.
Isaiah slumped next to him.
Nico tapped the keys and twisted the machine around for Isaiah to see. “I checked the scholarship information, and Linton’s assessment is correct. Your scholarship does need to be renewed every year, and the Gage Foundation is the one who has to approve it.”
“So, Darren’s dad can take it away?”
Nico shrugged. “Well, sort of. He can do what he wants. The question is, does he have a legit basis to do it.”
“What does that mean?”
He spun the silver Mac back so he could type. “Your scholarship is with the Foundation, not the school itself. From what little I could find, the original Darren Gage endowed the school with several grants. All of the endowments are handled by the school and the board except the money in the Foundation. He specifically kept that with him and his family.
“Since Darren’s dad runs the foundation, he has the power not to renew your scholarship if you violate any of the terms. That’s the murky area. There is this one spot that talks about acts of moral turpitude.”
“Moral what?”
