Chris Donaldson Ch. 07

This story is about Chris and Justin, roommates in their sophomore year at college. From their first day together, Justin asserted his Alpha Male dominance, and essentially turned Chris into his live-in submissive - a situation that, while occasionally violent, ultimately pleased them both. During one of Justin's violent episodes, Chris found solace in the arms of Mark, a Dom in his late 20s who proved patient and mature. Chris let Mark take his anal virginity, but subsequently lost touch with the older man. In the roommates' second semester together, Chris was invited to rush their RA's fraternity - which also happened to be Justin's fraternity. Chris managed to conceal his homosexuality through the pledge period, and arrived at Hell Week having endured more hazing than any of the other pledges. In the last chapter, Justin pulled Chris out of the fraternity house on the first night of Hell Week, telling him that he was about to be cut from the pledge class despite his best efforts. Justin sent Chris to a hotel to wait for him. Chris, confused and upset, found himself pursued by the fraternity's officers, who wanted him to return to the house to continue Hell Week.

All characters in the story are over the age of 18.

*****

Chris' Jeep sputtered to life. Thank you, Jesus.

He pulled out of the parking spot, and drove as fast as he dared to the lot exit that was farthest from his dorm. Left onto Cedar Avenue. He checked behind him quickly. He didn't see or hear any rich-boy cars peeling out of the lot with squealing tires. Had he made it?

It wasn't until twenty blocks and six interminable lights later that he started to relax. At first he had taken a number of turns in order to throw off any potential pursuit, and then thought, it's almost 1 a.m., this is dumb, just get the fuck downtown.

It was another fifteen minutes to the hotel. He drove his dirty Jeep into the entrance horseshoe, gave the keys and one of Justin's twenty dollar bills to the surprised valet, and hightailed it to the elevator. Reception, fifth floor.

He walked as confidently as he could to the counter, and smiled, he hoped casually, at the clerk, aware that his blue eyes were drooping, that his dark-blond hair was mussed, and that his clothing was disheveled over his worked-out but slim body.

"Checking in?"

"Yes, please."

"Name?"

"Donaldson."

"One moment. Chris?"

"Yes Sir." The clerk smiled. He was about 30, very tan, very handsome, and very gay.

"I just need an ID and credit card for incidentals."

Chris surrendered his own ID and his own credit card. He had calmed down sufficiently to recover his middle class pride; he knew he couldn't afford the room, and Justin could, but he was not going to let Justin pay for the minibar he planned to raid as soon as he got up there.

"Two keys or one?"

"Two, please." Justin was supposed to join him later.

The reception clerk smiled knowingly.

"There you go. Room 2116. 21st floor. The wireless password is on the keycard envelope. Elevators are over there. It's right below the penthouse. The fitness center is on 6. Sauna and spa are on 15. They're both open 24 hours." The man gave him a friendly smile, as if sure he'd be seeing Chris in the sauna before long.

"Thanks very much."

"Can our bellman help you with your luggage?"

Chris blushed. "No thanks, I've got it."

The clerk, seeing it was just the backpack, raised his eyebrows.

"Enjoy your stay, Sir."

Chris beat a hasty retreat to the elevator bank, and waited impatiently for one of them to open. Once inside, he hit 21 and breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed. Almost there. He walked down the hall to his room and sucked in his breath as he opened the door. Even from here, the view of the night skyline was amazing. He walked closer to the window. Wow. This was incredible. He looked around the room. Everything was so . . . white. Well, white and cream, actually, he noticed as he got closer. But where was the bed? Then it dawned on him.

This wasn't a room, it was a suite. He passed through the door to the bedroom. Holy shit. A king-sized bed. And the bathroom! There was a shower AND an enormous tub with a Jacuzzi.

Chris started to get suspicious again. Was this some elaborate plot of Justin's to plan the perfect romantic getaway and get into his pants for his birthday?

Then he remembered the fraternity brothers outside his room and Mason unlocking the door with his master key. And Justin's face. No, this might be an awesome suite, but the story Justin had told him . . . it must be real. He put his bag down, took off his shoes, and sat on the bed.

Well, now what? he thought.

Before anything else, the minibar. He found it back in the living room, and pulled out a bourbon - it was Bulleit, it was good, and it was gone before Chris realized this all might be more pleasant (and last longer) with ice. He dialed for a bucket, and it came within minutes.

Having taken the worst of the edge off this incredibly bad evening, he poured a second Bulleit over some ice cubes and took off all his clothes, putting on the luxurious bathrobe provided by the hotel. He went out onto the balcony. The April night was cold, but the bourbon warmed him enough to stay out a few minutes.

Chris put up his feet, and raised his glass to himself for his 20th birthday, now just an hour old. He drank deep. Finally, he had the courage to check his phone.

Wow. About 20 texts and four voicemails. He read them over. The first batch were all from Justin trying to find him earlier. Then a couple from Tag around midnight, wondering where he was. Then a series from the fraternity officers, which looked like they had come about once a minute, starting when they were headed to the dorm, and finishing after they'd gone back to the house to get on with hell week. These were terse; the first ones were simple inquiries from Chas and Mason, and then they got nastier, informing him that he was going to lose his place in the pledge class if he didn't return to the house; then one last salvo from Mason a few minutes ago: "What a waste of time you were. You'll get your de-pledge notification by US Mail."

Happy Birthday to me, thought Chris.

The first voicemail was from Justin at around 5:30, wondering where he was; the next two were hangups from blocked numbers at around 12:30. The last one was from Chas at 12:45. "Hey, I'm sorry, Donaldson, but . . ." There was a noise afterward; it sounded like someone had grabbed the phone.

Chris sipped his bourbon. It was all starting to hit him now - both the alcohol and the fact that he had just walked away from his only chance at . . . well, anything good. Making close friends; opening career doors for later; the prestige on campus that would have accompanied his acceptance as an active SAE; and most of all, the chance to get closer to Justin, close enough that Justin would never abandon him.

One hour passed. Two. Should he try and communicate with Justin? No. That was the hardest part - keeping Justin out of it. There was no telling what was going on at the house, and what his roommate was doing, but every time he nearly broke down and thought of texting, just to try and get some word, some sign, from the person he cared about most in the world, he stopped himself. He typed, and then deleted. Again and again.

There were only two bottles of bourbon in the minibar, and rather than call down for more, and perhaps be questioned about which birthday this in fact was, he started in on the scotch. Macallan 12. Was that a good one? Sure seemed like it. Ice might be appropriate with this one, too.

Chris tried to distract himself by heading down to the spa at 2:30, but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to take his phone into the sauna or the whirlpool, and he was glued to it, so he went back upstairs. Eight weeks as a fraternity pledge had increased his tolerance; he started on his second small bottle of scotch.

He ran through every moment of his conversation with Justin, over and over. Had he done the right thing? Had Justin been telling the truth out in the woods, or had he failed some arcane pledge test? And he ran through every second he could remember of his pledge period, wondering where it had all gone so horribly wrong. This was so fucking unfair! Chris came to realize how much he really had his heart set on all this, and he nearly broke down; but like the night Justin had paddled him, he found himself unable to cry.

He had nearly dozed off when his phone buzzed with a text. Immediately alert, he grabbed it, hoping that it was Justin. It wasn't. It was . . . Mark?!

"Happy Birthday, kiddo. Hope I'm not waking you up, but I wanted to get in there first, so to speak, lol." It was 2:57 a.m.

Chris stared at the screen in disbelief. Did Mark secretly plant a homing beacon up my ass when he fucked me, which goes off every time I'm feeling at my most vulnerable? And how the fuck did he know it was my birthday? I don't remember telling him.

Chris was so dazed by the unexpected message that he waited a full three minutes, phone frozen in his hand, before he replied, "Thank you."

"Wow, you're up?? How's it going?"

Chris tossed the phone on the bed and lay back down. Even drunk, though, he was polite and a pleaser. In a few minutes, he picked it up again and texted back, "Honestly, it's been pretty rough."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?"

"No, not right now, but thank you. It's all ok, just you know - college drama."

":( that's no fun." Then, "I'm sorry. Call or text me if you need anything. I hope you get some sleep and wake up with a new perspective. You deserve a happy birthday."

Yes, I do, Chris thought, but didn't reply. No point right now. Also, he couldn't keep his eyes open. A creature of habit, he dragged himself out of bed, found his toothbrush (in his bag next to the pledge manual, which he threw in the garbage), cleaned his teeth and washed his face, finally dispatching the taste of seven cocks in his mouth. Wasn't that the name of a course at a Chinese New Year banquet? Once in bed, he contemplated pouring one more drink and waiting up for Justin . . . who had said he was going to come . . . but he fell asleep before he could decide if that was a smart idea.

He woke to a hand gently shaking him.

"Chrissy."

Chris rolled over groggily and saw the face he'd been desperate to see for so many hours. Shaved head, handsome, often friendly, but now a little drawn, with tired but warm and liquid brown eyes. On top of an athletic but rounded body that Chris thought was the sexiest he had ever seen - and he knew it well now.

"Hey . . . what time is it?"

"5:30."

"How did you get in? I took both keys, I forgot to leave you one."

"I called the front desk earlier and got the room number. I told them I'd be flying in late, and joining you. The room was on my card, so it was fine."

"You think of everything." Chris forced a smile.

"How're you doing, roomie?"

"Bad."

"I know."

"But only because I haven't gotten my birthday spanking yet," Chris added, trying to play it off. He clumsily tried to get out from under the covers and crawl over Justin's lap, but the bigger jock stopped him and gently sat him back on the bed, naked.

"You don't need a spanking, Chrissy, you need a hug."

And now Chris' eyes started to water.

"Shh, come here." Justin drew Chris to his chest and held him tight, stroking his back. "I'm sorry, Chris. I'm so sorry."

Chris nuzzled his head in Justin's neck, then wrapped his arms around his hot-as-hell jock roommate, holding on for dear life.

"It's gonna be ok. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but it's gonna be ok," Justin murmured into Chris ear.

"What about you? What happened? How did it all go down?"

Justin hesitated.

"Did Mason figure out you had warned me?"

"I . . ." Justin started stroking his head. "Chrissy . . . Chris . . ." Justin stopped, embarrassed. "I can't tell you about what happened tonight because . . ."

Realizing how much this was going to hurt, Justin stopped.

And then Chris got it. It was like a knife in his heart.

"Because I'm not a pledge anymore," he said in a dull voice.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Well, what can you tell me, then? If anything."

Justin felt the boy go dead in his arms, and began to panic.

"It's not you, Chris, it's . . . those guys are . . . fuck, I don't know what to say."

"It's ok," came Chris' distant voice. "I understand."

"Don't do that, Chris, don't pull away," Justin said angrily.

"I'm not the one who pulled away first," Chris said simply. He disentangled himself from Justin's arms, but Justin pulled him back in.

"Ok." Justin's grip on Chris got tighter. "I'll tell you everything I can tell you, but please, please don't pull away from me." Chris looked up at the jock's face, and saw the same anguish written on it that he had seen by the tree earlier that night.

"Ok. I'm listening," Chris replied, emotionally drained, but seeing a faint glimmer of hope that perhaps the man of his dreams actually did care about him.

"The pledge shit went ahead fine. Just the normal bullshit. It's not interesting."

Chris nodded, his emotions crashing again at Justin's attempt to dismiss the evening's significance for the other aspirants; he felt the most profound sense of loss he had experienced since his mother had died - that now he truly would never belong, that he would never be in the same league as Justin.

"Mason went away to look for you with Tag and Chas."

"I know. They almost caught me."

Justin grasped Chris' shoulders and held him up, looking at him in distress.

"What?!"

"I went back to the room. I needed my wallet and my phone. And some clothes, and my laptop. I didn't know how long I was going to have to be away. They were coming down the hall as I was about to leave. I left through the window." Chris sounded sad and tired.

"Chris, I TOLD you," Justin began, and then cracked a hint of a smile. "Through the window, huh?"

"Yeah."

"That explains why Mason was so pissed. I'm sure he thought he would catch you and bring you back to teach you . . ." his voice trailed off. "Anyway, he was a real bastard to all the pledges all night. So was Johnson." Justin had reverted to his habit of calling the brothers by their last names, a habit he usually dropped when he was just talking to Chris. An adjustment that Chris now realized might have indicated that Justin himself had never seriously believed Chris was ever going to be a member of his fraternity.

"I was never really a part of all that, was I," Chris asked, defeated.

"Jesus, NO, that's not true!" Justin was desperate to improve his roommate's spirits. "A lot of the guys liked you. Fuck, most of them did. It was just the officers . . ." Chris looked so sad, so lost. "It's just a fraternity, Chris, it's not the end of the world."

Chris looked away.

And then Justin could no longer stop the memories from flooding back: another night, another boy's birthday. How that boy had also been rejected by his peers that night. How Justin had suddenly glimpsed what it might be like to not be one of the group, to have a hard time fitting in - and worse, to be invited into a social group as a joke, and then have it all fall on your head.

Fuck, the poor boy.

Justin knew what to do, how to fix it, but he had tried for so long not to go there, not to get caught again; for eight months he had fought his feelings, his instincts; he had punished the boy, abused the boy, anything but showing affection for him, because he knew that would only lead to pain.

But the slumping figure next to him couldn't be passed off like that. Chris was special. As special as the other boy.

You know what's right, Justin thought, you know you've been headed here from the beginning. You didn't think it was possible to feel this again, but you do.

And so Justin gently pulled Chris' head up from his neck, and looked at him, his hands on either side of Chris' face. Without a word, he closed his eyes, tilted his head forward, and kissed Chris full on the mouth.

Chris' heart started beating triple time. He kissed back, shy at first, then teasing with his lips and tongue; and suddenly he was fully awake and so incredibly eager, his blood surging now that the impossible had finally happened. Their first kiss! Justin opened his mouth. Their tongues danced. This was better than good. It was better than perfection. This was the universe opening up, with every star in it showering its light on the two of them. Justin felt the power of Chris' kiss - his passion, his devotion, his trust, his lust - deep within his own soul. And he was hard as a rock now.

After what seemed like an eternity, they broke contact, gasping for air. For the first time Chris looked into Justin's brown eyes and saw his own fire returned.

I don't care if my whole world splits apart tomorrow, I am going to make this moment last forever.

Both of them thought it together.

Chris leaned in again and kissed Justin with all the fervor of a man getting his heart's desire, and Justin did not pull back, but plunged his tongue into his boy's mouth, exploring it, owning it. Chris had been waiting for this moment for eight months; now Justin realized he'd been waiting for it almost as long himself. Justin guided Chris backwards, laying him on the bed, their mouths never separating. They kissed, grinding, Chris peeling off Justin's wrinkled clothes until they were both naked. They reveled in this new sensation, this new activity - the thing that Justin had tacitly forbidden for so long. And then, eventually, they came up for air, still gripping each other urgently, but somehow not quite ready for anything else yet. This feeling was so huge, they both felt like they needed to experience it fully before moving on, although their dicks were both straining.

Justin pulled Chris into a tight embrace again.

"I'm just so fucking glad you're ok," he said.

"I'm ok as long as I'm with you. Sir," Chris whispered.

Justin's dick bounced at the gesture of respect. Even in this most awful, vulnerable moment, this boy never stops giving, he thought. God damn. How did I not see what a keeper he is? Well, I know it now.

Justin kissed Chris again, hard and passionate, rough and raw. The emotions he had kept walled up for two years came flooding out, and Chris received their brute force with gratitude and equal ardor. It felt to them both like they breathed as one, their mouths never parting. Make it last forever, they both thought again.

Chris finally broke the lip lock and pushed Justin onto his back. He kissed his beautiful roommate's hard pecs and the prominent nipples, and worked his way down Justin's belly on his way to his favorite: Justin's pulsing, enormous cock.

"Wait," Justin breathed, and slid his hands under Chris' armpits, lifting him back up so that their faces met. "Not yet, Chrissy."

"Why?" Chris' eyes were burning with desire, and he tried to go down on Justin again.

"No. Wait. I want to tell you something."

"What?" Chris asked impatiently.

Justin lifted his roommate up and laid him to his side, then wrapped the boy's head in his powerful arms. Kissing Chris' forehead, Justin murmured, "A lot. Everything."

Chris cringed inwardly. He had been desperate just ten minutes ago to find out what had happened after he ran away from SAE, but now he didn't want to know. He had won the prize - almost. The kisses had been unbelievable, and the fact that Justin had initiated them unreal; but this wasn't over until Justin's huge cock was up his ass, and his load deposited in Chris' yearning hole. Only then would this moment be irrevocable, only then would their bond be cemented, and unable to be altered by any fraternity dictate or caprice.