The week blurred into repetition. Classes, study hall, pledge errands. Thursday night they were hauled out to the Annex again for another line-up. Same shouts, same trash cans, same barked orders. Ethan barely remembered the details afterward, just the raw throat and bruised shins.
“I think this is the first time we’ve talked since Homecoming.” Mark said as he passed the bowl to Ethan.
“Speaking of, you notice Catherine hanging around the house that night?” Mark asked, smoke curling toward the ceiling. “What did you think of her and her Kingston Crew?”
Ethan hesitated. “Yeah, I saw them. They seemed cool I guess, though Eli did seem to act weird around her.”
“Eli’s kryptonite,” Mark laughed. “They’ve been doing this dance since high school. I’m glad you saw it too. She’ll keep him spinning all year, and he’ll let her.”
Ethan didn't answer. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the fan, trying not to picture her laugh at Eli’s shoulder. Catherine wasn’t just another girl—she seemed to represent everything Eli was supposed to want, everything Ethan felt he couldn’t compete with. Soon Mark was snoring and his mind drifted to Tyler. He tried to bring up the last night of the road trip, but Tyler just shrugged him off. “Relax man, it’s cool.” being the extent of the conversation. Tyler was comfortable in his own skin, cuddling with another guy didn’t make him gay. Eli on the other hand, he was beginning to feel sorry for.
By Friday, the rhythm shifted back into routine. For once Ethan was actually looking forward to the weekend and hanging out at the house. The last two weeks had been a whirlwhind, Mark being the only pledge brother he had had time to compare notes with after the road trip. That afternoon, Ethan showered, shaved, and put on a new button-down and fleece before reporting to the house. Pledge duties were the same, but some brothers had decamped to see their girlfriends. Other than snagging beers and doling out cigarettes, it wasn’t too bad.
It wasn’t a football weekend. Campus felt quiet, half-asleep. By nightfall, Delta Chi still managed to fill with noise—music echoing down the halls, girls drifting in from Waverly and Kingston—but by midnight the crowd had thinned. Brothers disappeared upstairs with girlfriends, doors closing behind them.
Ethan was on his way out when Eli’s voice stopped him. Eli leaned against the wall, cigarette in hand, eyes catching the low light. Ethan hesitated by the door, uncertainty flickering through him. His pulse quickened as he caught Eli’s gaze, sensing something had shifted between them.
“Hang back.”
Without another word, he tipped his head toward the stairs. Ethan followed.
They passed closed doors and muffled laughter. Eli’s room waited at the end of the hall: dim lamplight, the hum of his fan, the faint smell of his cologne or whatever it was he used. Mark must use it too, he could catch a whiff every now and then, but not like Eli.
Conversation began tentatively—about classes, about family, about why Eli had walked away from lacrosse. Finally to Catherine, Eli admitting he hadn’t been as clear with the boundary as he told Mark.
“I just don’t want to be who everyone expects,” Eli admitted, voice quieter than Ethan had ever heard it.
“I get that,” Ethan said. “Feels like everything is kind of mapped out for you, but no one bothered to ask you if you wanted it.”
Eli glanced at him, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Me too.”
The space between them collapsed. Fingers brushed, a kiss followed, hesitant at first, then insistent. The weight of weeks pressed into it. The kiss deepened until Ethan felt dizzy, his nostrils filled with Eli’s smell, beer, and cigarettes. Eli’s hand slid behind his neck, pulling him closer, anchoring him. Ethan fumbled at first, nervous, until Eli slowed the pace, guiding without words.
Clothes gave way piece by piece—shirts tugged overhead, jeans unbuttoned with fumbling hands. They laughed when Ethan yanked off Eli’s belt in one swift motion, twirling it above his head like a lasso, the sound swallowed quickly in another kiss.
Ethan’s thoughts flickered: disbelief, awe, fear, then hunger. He couldn’t take it all in—only the heat, the pressure, the sense of being wanted. Eli alternated between control and softness, every move deliberate.
Ethan was surprised by how much he liked giving up control, letting someone else lead. Eli wasn’t rough, but he moved with a confidence that left Ethan breathless. After pinning him down and kissing him into the pillows, Eli stood, slipped off his boxers, and tossed them at Ethan’s face. Ethan shoved them aside, heart hammering, breath catching as he stared.
It was almost more than he could bear. He’d pictured Eli a thousand times since that first night, but the reality undid him. His body was perfect—not Tyler’s Abercrombie symmetry, but more rugged, more real. Muscle under soft blonde hair that trailed down his stomach to a thick, unkempt bush. His cock jutted upward, hard, straining against skin, glistening at the tip. Ethan wanted it—wanted to taste the bead of precum waiting there.
Before he could speak, Eli stripped Ethan’s boxers away, baring him before he had a chance to be self conscious. “Relax,” Eli murmured. “I won’t hurt you.” He lay down beside him, stroking his cock slowly, cupping his balls, then pulled him into another kiss. Hands gripped his ass, grinding them together until he gasped.
Ethan finally let himself go, exploring Eli’s chest. He threaded his fingers through the hair, buried his face in it, breathed him in. He wanted all of him, had dreamed of it for weeks. Surprising himself, Ethan went for Eli’s cock, taking it in deeper than intended, breath hitching as he pressed into Eli’s scent, the intimacy overwhelming him.
Eli hesitated, eyes softer than Ethan had ever seen. For a long second he didn’t say anything, just traced a finger along Ethan’s jaw like he was memorizing it.
“I’ve never done this all the way,” he said quietly. “Not with someone I actually cared about.”
The words landed heavier than any kiss. Ethan’s throat tightened.
“Do you trust me?” Eli asked then, and this time Ethan didn’t hesitate.
The question startled Ethan. But beneath his hesitation, he realized he truly did trust Eli—more than he’d expected, more than he trusted himself.
“Yes,” Ethan managed. That was all Eli needed before he slid down and wrapped his mouth around Ethan’s cock.
Ethan eased back, surrendering. Eli’s tongue traced his length, then moved lower, teasing his balls. They both laughed when he tried, unsuccessfully, to take both into his mouth at once. Shaking his head, Eli kept going, his tongue circling lower until Ethan stiffened, instinct telling him to pull away. But nothing had ever felt like this. Slowly, he relaxed.
Eli reached into the nightstand and pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube.
“Wait—what are you doing?” Ethan asked, the spell breaking for a second.
“I promise I won’t hurt you. Lay back down.”
Ethan obeyed, closing his eyes as Eli’s tongue worked him open, then one finger, then two. Pain gave way to pressure. Pressure to need. Ethan pushed back on Eli’s hand, wanting more.
“Yeah, I think you’re ready,” Eli said with a crooked smile.
Before Ethan could answer, Eli lifted his legs onto his shoulders. “I want it,” Ethan finally managed to whisper.
Eli pressed the tip against him, circling, teasing. “You like that?” he breathed.
“Keep going,” Ethan blurted, louder than he meant.
He tried to steady his breathing as Eli pushed inside, inch by inch, until the air left his lungs in a rush. It was too much and not enough. He wanted all of it. When Eli bottomed out, the stretch turned into a dizzy rush of heat that left his vision swimming.
Eli began to move, slow at first, then harder. Ethan tried to kiss him but broke off with a cry when Eli found his prostate. He grabbed a pillow, muffling his voice, unable to stay quiet.
“I’m gonna cum,” he gasped.
“That’s the point. Just breathe. Tell me if I hurt you,” Eli whispered, thrusting harder.
Ethan couldn’t form words. His knees trembled, his body betraying him. The orgasm tore through him deeper than he’d ever felt, leaving him shaking, spilling hot across his stomach and chest.
He felt Eli tense above him, cock throbbing inside, then a final thrust, a grunt, and heat spilling into him, his body clenching around it.
After, they collapsed together, breath ragged, the sheets sticky with Ethan’s release, skin pressed close, joined by the evidence of what they’d made.
They lay tangled, skin cooling, the box fan stirring smoke from a fresh cigarette. Eli lit it, took a drag, and passed it to Ethan. The glow pulsed in the dark. As their breathing steadied, Ethan caught Eli’s eyes drifting briefly toward the window, an unreadable expression crossing his face before he turned back and kissed Ethan’s forehead.
“You ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?” Eli asked.
“All the time.”
“Me too.”
The words landed heavier than any kiss. They talked quietly—half confessions, half small talk—stretching the night as if it could last forever. For the first time since arriving at Westmore, Ethan felt steady. Whole. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind, Catherine lingered. He wondered if Eli would ever let her see this version of himself, or if what they’d shared was a secret he alone would carry. Finally he drifted off to sleep, Eli’s arm around him, holding him close.
Pale light cut through the blinds when Ethan woke. The sheets beside him were already cold. Eli stood by the desk, damp hair, lacing his shoes, the mask sliding back onto his face piece by piece.
He looked at the door, then back at Ethan. “If Clay or any of the brothers see you leaving my room, it won’t just be you who gets destroyed. Please—go before anyone notices.”
His voice wasn’t sharp. It was careful. Protective.
Ethan slipped past him into the hall, the knot in his chest heavy but not empty. Whatever else Eli wanted to pretend, Ethan knew it hadn’t been nothing.
Further Reading
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Very hot!
Though I have to confess I don't particularly like Eli. It seems to me like he's using Ethan.