Sex, Drugs, and Princeton Ch. 03

Author's Note: Thank you for all of the feedback and votes for the first two chapters. I'm honored! Here is the next chapter in Brett & Travis's love story. More to come soon!

*******

Back at school Brett noticed some immediate changes between Travis and himself. Ever since his dad had suspected their relationship and confessed to having a friend in the area keeping tabs on him, Travis was hyper-sensitive to people suspecting he was gay. He made plans to rush the fraternity his dad had insisted upon at the start of next semester and had even begun hanging out with some of the guys and attending a few of their parties. One of their roommates, Van, was also interested in rushing so the two of them starting hanging out more both around the room and at meals and other social events too. In public, Travis kept a bit of distance from Brett. He tried to be more social and interacted with others, inviting one of the other roommates to dinner for example, when before he'd have been content to have Brett all to himself. Since the car ride home from Virginia, Travis and Brett hadn't once mentioned their conversation or the fact that they'd made love. Brett was sad about the distance between them, but knew that he had to offer Travis some space. He'd never before been grateful to have a family that was so hands off as he watched Travis struggle with his family-fueled identity crisis.

While Brett struggled with his emotions, still loving Travis, but suddenly less able to get close to him, there were times when he thought it might be best to let Travis go altogether. He sometimes thought that what he really needed was to call his best friend back home, Wilson, and let him know everything that had been going on. At those times he thought about Travis's final words when they'd had their conversation about their relationship, "No one can know," and out of respect, and perhaps a bit of fear, he didn't let Wilson know about the developments with Travis. Every time he thought that things were at their absolute worst and he couldn't take keeping his feelings secret anymore and wondered if Travis was worth it, Travis would seemingly read his mind and offer a sign of hope, a ray of light, to keep him hanging on. While at dinner along with a group of soon-to-be frat brothers, Travis would reach for Brett's hand under the table and hold it tight when no one was looking. If they were sitting in the common room watching a movie, Travis might let his thigh rest on Brett's and linger there just long enough to let Brett know it was intentional, but not long enough to draw anyone's attention. The longer this went on without them talking about it, the more Brett realized that it was probably OK that they didn't discuss the nature of things between them, because the words hadn't been created yet to describe what they shared with each other.

Not being able to openly share their feelings in public, Brett and Travis still spent a good amount of time together in the privacy of their bedroom. However, Travis was careful to limit their time together to the late night hours when he was much less likely to fear being caught spending time with Brett. Most nights Travis would come back to the room by 10 or 11pm, even if he'd spent much of the evening hanging out with his new fraternity friends. Then he'd spend several hours with Brett until they'd fall asleep sometime just before dawn. Their time together was never overtly sexual and it usually centered around getting high - mostly smoking pot. But sometimes, they would blow the smoke into each other's mouths as they'd done the first afternoon they'd smoked together. Since they slept most of the day and smoked pot most of the night, needless to say neither of them was doing very well at school.

So the last several weeks of the fall semester passed in this way. Even though Brett had some closeness with Travis, he really never had felt more alone. The one thing that Brett did look forward to was the annual Nude Olympics. This Princeton ritual took place at midnight on the night of the first snowfall on campus. Every year, most of the sophomore class would strip naked and run laps around the courtyard of the dorm where he and Travis lived. As the days grew shorter and colder and the prospect of the Nude Olympics came closer, most of the underclassmen were abuzz with excitement about it. Even Brett and Travis who usually didn't get too hyped about all things Princeton, were looking forward to it. During one of their late night smoking sessions, they'd decided that on the night of the Nude Olympics they were going to hang out in their room, put on Hawaiian shirts, drink rum and cokes, and scratch records to accompany the activity outside their windows in the courtyard.

On the Wednesday of the last week of classes in the fall semester it finally snowed. It was a very minor snow event, but it was enough to set off a chain reaction of excitement. Sophomores started making plans for where they'd stash their clothes to begin their run to Holder Hall. Other students tried to find friends who lived nearby so that they could have a warm room from which to watch the festivities and enjoy some adult beverages. Campus police went on high alert as they prepared for several hundred naked co-eds and a dozen or so TV crews to converge upon the usually quiet little dorm on the corner of University & Nassau. Brett and Travis skipped all of their classes that day once the first flake fell and went ahead with their plans to celebrate Hawaiian style. Brett was excited to have a whole day with Travis since it had become more rare that he had Travis all to himself. Charlie was at a party with some football buddies and Van was nowhere to be seen, so they had the entire suite to themselves. Maybe it was the excitement of the event or the fact that they were alone, but it felt just like it had early in their relationship. They had been drunk since lunch, and as it neared midnight, they had just started to mix records when Travis decided it was time to put on their Hawaiian shirts.

"OK, man...I've got just the shirt for you," Travis giggled as he dug into the back of their closet.

"Tell me again why you have so many Hawaiian shirts?" Brett puzzled.

"Because they're awesome. They remind me of Jimmy Buffett."

"Who's that?"

"Are you kidding me?" Travis forgot about finding the perfect shirt for a moment, pulled a Jimmy Buffett album from the case of vinyl records on the floor and put it on the turntable. "I can't believe I'd never played this for you. You're gonna love it." It was Jimmy's greatest hits. Though Brett would never admit it to anyone, and would deny it if ever asked, he did actually kind of love it.

"Here, this is the one!" Travis beamed as he grabbed a blue Hawaiian shirt with several shades of green and gold palm trees from the back of the closet.

"Do I have to?" Brett whined.

"Promise is a promise."

"I think I changed my mind," Brett smiled and folded his arms over his chest defiantly.

"Well then I'm going to make you wear it," Travis smiled back and grabbed Brett by the arms playfully. Brett tried to wriggle free of Travis's grip and they grappled with each other for a minute or two, but Travis being stronger won out. Travis used his physical edge to wrestle Brett down onto his bed and straddled his waist. Brett could feel Travis's strong thighs pressing into his hip bones and the heat from his crotch hovering just above his own. His dick began to stir and he gave up struggling entirely. Travis pinned both of his arms over his head using just one hand of his own. He used his free hand to strip Brett's t-shirt off of his body, exposing his manly, furry chest and abs. As Travis took in the sight of Brett there on the bed beneath him, his own dick started to stir in his shorts. Travis leaned his face closer to Brett's and kissed him passionately on the lips. It was the kind of achingly full kiss that took your breath away and you could feel all the way down to your toes. Travis pulled his lips away and released his grip on Brett's wrists. He helped Brett sit up so that they could face each other while they sat on the bed. Travis picked up the Hawaiian shirt that now lay on the floor next to them and slowly slipped Brett's arms into the shirt one at a time. Keeping his eyes fixed right on Brett's eyes the entire time, he then carefully buttoned each one of the buttons starting from the waist and working all the way up to the lapel, leaving the top button undone, exposing just a bit of Brett's chest hair. When he was done he placed a hand on Brett's chest, just over his heart. "I thought this shirt would bring out the beautiful deep blues and gold flecks in your eyes," Travis pined as he leaned in again for another kiss.

They both were startled as the door to their dorm room burst open. From their vantage point on Brett's bunk they couldn't see who'd just come into the room, but they both scrambled to their feet quickly and made their way out into the common room. It was a very drunk Van along with 3 other guys affiliated with the fraternity that Travis planned to pledge.

"What up y'all?" Van had a funny habit of talking like a gangsta with a slight Southern drawl when he was drunk.

"Hey Van, where you guys been?" Travis asked.

"Man, there are so many parties out there tonight," Van replied, "And the ladies are not shy about showing off the good stuff right now." Van was right. Holder Hall on Nude Olympics night was Princeton's version of Bourbon Street on Mardi Gras. "What were you guys doing here?"

"Just pregaming," Travis answered quickly.

"Travis, you've gotta come out with us after midnight. Some of the brothers are throwing a huge party down in the slums," Van begged. The slums were a group of old dorms on the far side of campus where many upperclassmen lived.

"I don't know," Travis hedged.

"Everybody's getting some tonight, boyyy," he emphasized the last word as if he was Flava Flav.

Travis looked to Brett for an answer, but by now Brett had completely withdrawn within himself. He had adopted the same blank stare he usually had when he and Travis were together in public. Travis was momentarily saved from offering an answer when one of the frat guys announced that the first of the naked revelers had arrived. The Nude Olympics had begun. Before long hundreds of naked sophomores ran circles around the usually quiet courtyard. Some wore Princeton hats, socks, or scarves. A couple of others carried large banners with their class year. One even held a large flaming torch. The crowd was deafening and nearly every room in Holder was packed with people 3 or 4 deep at the windows watching the spectacle unfold. Brett had only ever seen two penises other than his own before tonight: Wilson's and Travis's. In the first 5 minutes of the Nude Olympics he saw probably 400. He thought it funny that nearly 80% of the participants were male even though the class was pretty equally distributed between men and women. Why did all of these straight guys enjoy either being naked with each other or watching other guys parade around naked? He thought that maybe he wasn't the only one with a secret to hide. Before long he grew tired of all the "frat talk" in the common room and withdrew to the bedroom. Jimmy Buffett was skipping on the turntable. He turned him off and put on a Radiohead CD.

Once the excitement outside had started to die down, folks headed out to parties all over campus. Travis came into the bedroom and closed their door.

"Hey, you wanna come out with us?" Travis asked.

"Are you kidding?" Brett replied, then as he thought about how Travis was breaking their date he added more emphatically, "NO!"

"Don't be mad at me because you don't want to come out! We'll just stay out for a little bit."

"You know what, just go have fun. I really don't care," Brett lied as he pulled the still buttoned Hawaiian shirt over his head and tossed it in Travis's face. He picked up a pale blue NYC Subway Conductor shirt he'd bought second hand. He loved that shirt. "I think THIS shirt brings out my eyes," Brett said sarcastically as his angry eyes burned holes into Travis's.

Travis looked like he'd just been punched in the gut. He seethed as he wordlessly walked out the door, gathered with the other guys from the frat and left.

*******

Brett sat alone in the bedroom listening to Radiohead for about 20 minutes. He was too numb to cry but he felt unbearably sad. He wanted so badly to leave this place, with Travis, and go someplace where they could be together and love each other fully and in the open. He drowned his sorrow in several quick shots of cinnamon schnapps, the only alcohol that the frat dudes had left behind. The pain of their encounter slowly started to melt away and Brett started to feel a bit bolder. He realized that he was young and alive, and while he was in a place as lame as Princeton, there was probably still some fun to be had somewhere. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes off of the desk that he and Travis shared and headed out the door looking for an adventure.

His feet carried him in the direction of "The Street". This was where Princeton's eating clubs were located. The clubs were Princeton's answer to Greek life since fraternities and sororities weren't officially sanctioned by the university but existed underground. Most upperclassmen joined one of the clubs where they could take meals, enjoy the free-flowing beer taps, and be part of Princeton's limited social scene. He hadn't been there since the first week of school when most of the clubs opened their doors to freshmen to welcome them to campus. He'd found the people at the clubs to be entirely homogenous and boring, but he knew if anything was happening at Princeton it would be happening there. As he walked through the heart of campus, past the towering Gothic chapel, and imposing Firestone Library, he saw a small group of people heading toward The Street that caught his eye. There was a tall, very attractive guy who set off Brett's very unused gaydar; a punk rock chick with long black hair; and a cute redheaded girl with a huge smile, pigtails, and a joint in her mouth. Brett was terrible at meeting new people, but in his state of wild inebriation, he felt a strange confidence. He sped up his pace to catch up with the group and asked where they were headed.

"Terrace Fucking Club," the punk rocker said with a smile. "I'm Jess." She appeared to be their leader. "This is Peggie and Shawn," she continued as she pointed to the other two. Brett started to introduce himself, but she continued, "We know who you are. We've had our eye on you in the freshman facebook."

"Really?" Brett said dumbfounded.

"Well, yeah," Peggie chimed in, "There aren't too many fierce looking punk rock guys like you around here!"

Brett blushed. For the first time since coming to Princeton he felt really good about himself.

"Nice shirt," Shawn finally spoke up with a smile.

"So, what is this Terrace Fucking Club?" Brett asked.

"Come with us," Jess replied, "We'll pop your cherry." They all laughed, even Brett. He finally felt like he was heading home.

They walked him to a house just off The Street. Terrace (or TFC as it was lovingly called by its followers) was the eating club that welcomed Princeton's artists, gays, poets, weirdos, vegetarians, and basically anyone else who didn't quite fit in. It was a towering mansion, just like the others on The Street except Brett definitely took note of the rainbow flag that stood proudly on the flagpole above the front door. His three new friends guided him through the front door and past the bouncer who stood watch at the door to the tap room. Even though he was clearly under age (as were they), his guides must have known exactly what to say because they were in without a hassle. The tap room was small and smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. Terrace was packed on a night like this when all the "straights" let their hair down at the Nude Olympics. Peggie flirted with the guy behind the bar and got 4 beers while Jess and Shawn cleared a small table by tossing some clear Solo cups to the floor and offered Brett a place to sit.

"So, we've been dying to know," Jess asked, "Is that buff Trevor guy your boyfriend?"

"What? No. It's Travis." Brett was turning red.

"OK, hard to get, I like that." Jess continued.

"How come you haven't come out much before?" Peggie wondered as she joined the conversation with the 4 lousiest beers Brett had ever tasted.

"I don't know, Princeton's just not..." Brett couldn't figure out how to finish his sentence.

"Gay friendly?" Shawn tried finishing his sentence.

"No, I mean, I'm not, I mean it's OK if you are, it's just," Brett stammered.

"Relax, Cupcake," Jess let him off the hook. "Go easy on him, Shawn. He's just a baby. I think that's what I'll call you," she thought aloud, "Baby Brett."

"I like that!" Peggie chimed in.

"Got a nice ring to it," said Shawn.

"OK," said Brett, just happy to have some people to actually talk to here at Princeton.

"No worries, Baby B," Jess said, "They all wind up at Terrace someday. Even the ones who protest the loudest that they're straight!"

As the night went on the four of them danced, drank, and laughed like rock stars. He learned that the 3 of them were sophomores, and like him they hadn't been fond of Princeton at first. They'd survived freshman year because they had each other and their regular visits to Terrace for drinks and debauchery. Brett had never felt more like himself in his life. No one there judged him harshly for his bleached hair, piercings, or wild clothes. He was accepted, even admired for it. Brett had easily had at least a dozen drinks when he excused himself to head to the bathroom to relieve himself. On his way to the men's room, whose entrance was actually in a coat closet, he was stopped by an attractive guy with dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and a killer smile. The guy was a little shorter and heavier than Brett, but he wasn't in bad shape at all. He was leaning on the coat closet wall, just hanging out near the men's room door.

"Wow, I've never seen a guy as hot as you in here," the stranger said.

"Thanks, I'm Brett,"

"Patrick. Are you getting your coat to leave?" he asked.

"Nope. The other thing," Brett said as he pointed to the bathroom door.

"Good, it would be a shame if you had to leave just after we met. I'll be right here waiting for you."

Brett's heart was pounding and his head was swirling. He pushed open the bathroom door and just started to feel all of those drinks catching up to him. He walked up to the urinal at the end of the line, undid his fly, pulled himself out and started to pee out what felt like several bladders full of beer. From the corner of his eye, he saw the bathroom door open and close. In a moment, Patrick was standing at the urinal next to him.

"What do you know? I had to go too," Patrick smiled as he unzipped and began to pee. Brett tried to resist the urge to look down, but finally peeked at Patrick's cock. It wasn't as big as his own, probably about 5 inches when erect as it nearly was now, but it was thicker and uncut. Brett was mesmerized at the look of the hooded cock. He'd never seen one close up before and in that moment he wanted to explore it. He looked up and saw that Patrick's eyes were on him too. They looked into each other's eyes and as they drained the last of their piss into the urinals they leaned in and started making out ferociously. With Travis, their kissing while rare had always been passionate and loving. This kiss was hungry and voracious. Their tongues poked and prodded and their mouths devoured each other. Their dicks were still exposed and hardening as they turned to face each other and started groping the backs of each other's bodies. Just then, the bathroom door swung open again. Brett then remembered he was in public and feared that they'd get beaten for their act of public gayness. As he instinctively stepped quickly away from Patrick's hungry hands and mouth, he realized that it was just one of the club officers making his rounds, "Good night guys, we just called last round downstairs, it's time for everyone to head out." Even in his remarkably drunk state, Brett still realized how amazing it was that he could be caught half naked and groping some guy in a bathroom and that the club officer wouldn't bat an eye. He knew he'd have to come back to this Terrace Fucking Club soon...and often.