Efrain and Cory Ch. 10

Chapter 10 - Post-Fuck Etiquette

I have three simple rules:

1. Do not fuck people you know.

2. Do not bring home your hook-ups.

3. Do not spend the night.

These rules have seen me through my first year of college, through countless hook-ups. I've avoided all kinds of drama and headache. I don't have the patience or the desire to deal with boyfriend bullshit; my rules make this clear.

And yet, I'm breaking all of them with Cory.

I broke the first rule the moment I decided to pursue him. I couldn't help myself. And the second broken rule was a matter of chance.

The third? Cuddling is what you do when you don't want the guy to think you're just after his ass. Of course, I've always been after sex, so I never bothered with the pretense. So, I have no fucking idea why I wanted him to stay last night. Asking just felt right at the time.

Or it could be that it still feels so unreal. I'm having a hard time reconciling the cute and honest Cory on the field with the wanton and sensual Cory in my bed. One minute we're joking around and the next I'm buried so deep inside him; it makes me worry that what we've done is all in my head.

But, he's here, sprawled across my chest.

I usually clean up and book it after, but I find myself having a post-fuck nap with Cory for the second time. Holding him just feels good. So does running my fingers through his hair. And flirting with him.

I tell myself that it just makes it easier to fuck him again when I've rested enough, but it's not that convincing.

***

I stayed the night with Efrain because he really didn't give me a choice.

I didn't pass out like I did last time. We dozed a little, fucked a little, slept some more, fucked again. Not a lot of the biting and slapping kind, but it was still pretty intense. By the third time, my throat was too raw to speak and my legs were too weak to stand. I couldn't walk to the bathroom to clean myself up, let alone walk out the door. He had to bring me hot tea and a washcloth in bed.

All told, I got in three good hours of sleep last night. Football practice is going to be a bitch.

It's 8 in the morning when I finally stumble back to the dorms. The guys all have early morning classes or work, so they're milling about in the suite when I walk in.

"The biter strikes again," Romero leers.

"He did not."

Gio points at his neck without looking up from his notes.

I hurry over to the mirror on my closet door. On the side of my neck are two thumb-print sized hickeys. I find a third on my collarbone. I have a slight tan still, but the marks stand out against my skin.

"I'm going to fucking kill him."

"How did you not notice him giving you a hickey?" Al asks

"How did you not notice three?"

"Same way he didn't notice when the guy bit him," Gio laughs. Since I had to take the bandage off in the shower, both the guys in the locker room and my roommates saw Efrain's teeth marks. My teammates think it was a girl, but Romero blabbed to Al and Gio. He's been trying to get me to tell him which guy since yesterday morning.

I ignore them all and grab a quick shower. I'm already running late by the time I get on my clothes and nab a protein shake from the fridge. Thank fucking God that my legs are less gelatinous or else I wouldn't be able to book it to my 8:30 class.

At practice later, I punch Efrain's arm when no one is looking.

"What was that for?"

I narrow my eyes. "You know exactly what that was for."

He laughs. "I couldn't help myself."

I punch his shoulder in the same spot, winning a satisfying ouch from him. "Oh man, I couldn't help myself."

He rubs his arm. "I'll make it up to you tonight," he says with his characteristic wolfish grin.

"Nope."

"What do you mean nope?"

"Already have plans." He gets this odd look on his face. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was jealousy.

"Because I left hickeys?"

"I'm going out dancing with some friends."

"Tomorrow night, then?"

"Study group," I lie.

"On a Friday?" The odd look, again.

"Well, yeah." Fuck, telling him no is almost as fun as telling him yes.

He sighs. "Fine, but you're coming over Saturday after the game."

"Oh, I am?"

"Yeah, so clear your schedule."

"You're so sure that I'm going to cancel my weekend plans."

"Damn straight," he smirks. "Oh, and bring a toothbrush. I'm making you breakfast." He saunters off before I can respond.

It seems he's not giving me a choice about spending the night again.

***

"Why are you still in your underwear?"

I walk my bikini brief-clad ass back to my bed to peruse my wardrobe choices, leaving Cory to close the door.

"God, Preston," he complains. "We're supposed to pick up Berta and Luz in 10 minutes."

"Oh, please," I shoot back over my shoulder. "They're probably more behind than I am." Marina's friends Berta and Luz have been whining about her ditching them for lez-Delia. Apparently, Cory and I are to blame for them hooking up, and they demanded that we go out dancing with them as compensation.

I don't know why, but they chose country line dancing. I hate country music. Country music is why we can't have nice things. But, it's a good excuse to make Cory wear his Stetson and boots. He even has his shirt tucked in with respectably sized belt buckle.

He slips off his boots and flops down on my bed while I try to decide what I'm wearing.

"Don't overthink it," he says. "Solid colors are a pretty safe bet." He rolls over on his back and puts his hat over his face as if he's going to take a nap. The first three buttons of his shirt are open over his muscular chest and a simple braided leather cord hugs his neck. Above that are two lovebites.

That little whore.

I pounce on him and straddle his lap. His hat falls off his face as I tickle the side of his neck. "Where'd you get these? Hm? Have anymore?" I try to look under his shirt, but he grabs my hands and fights me off. Thus routed, I start bouncing on his lap and chanting "tell me, tell me" over and over.

He rolls over and pins me under his body. "Could you at least put on clothes before you start jumping on me?"

I wrap my arms and legs around him. "Bitch, this is closest you've been to a dick in weeks."

He smirks down at me.

"No way. Who?"

"I'm not telling you that."

I tighten my hold on him and threaten to stay in my underwear until he tells me. He rolls his eyes and reaches around to pull his phone out of his back pocket. "Alright, but you can't tell Romero and them who it is."

Cory quickly scrolls through his phone and shows me a picture. It's a bathroom selfie with the message "you turned this down to go dancing????"

Damn, Cory knows how to pick 'em.

The guy is totally of the tall, dark and handsome variety. He's shirtless, exposing his gorgeous chest. His thumb is hooked on his waistband, drawing it down teasingly, but the fabric is thin enough that you know exactly what he has going on under there - a lot.

God, I wonder if he could be persuaded to share.

Then, I get a good look at his face.

"He looks familiar. Why does he look familiar, Cory?"

"We play together."

"You clearly have," I say, pointing out his hickeys. While rolling around, I noticed another one on his collarbone.

"No, literally. Football. He's on the team."

"You skank," I gasp.

"Oh, you wouldn't hesitate to hit it, given the chance." He reaches between us and pokes at my dick, which I admit is a little hard. Though, to be fair, I've been rolling around in my underwear with my legs wrapped around a seriously cute football player that I've already had the pleasure of sucking off.

"So, you've managed to land a boyfriend."

"We're just fucking around."

I poke at the hickeys on his neck. "That's not fucking around, that's marking territory."

"I doubt that."

"No, seriously. Ever try picking up someone while sporting visible lovebites?"

"Can't say that I have."

"It's not easy," I explain. "He's cock-blocking you."

"He has no reason to cock-block me."

"He wants to keep you for himself." Cory seems to think on this for a bit, a half-smile begins to form. "You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"I guess so."

"You guess so. Bitch, please. You're already in love with him."

"I'm not in love with him."

"But, you really like him."

He sighs forlornly. "Yeah, I really like him."

"So," I say, bouncing up. "How big is his dick?"

"Oh my God, Preston."

"On a scale of Micro to Indie."

"You're such a fucking size queen."

"Bigger than me? Bigger than you?" I gasp. "Bigger than Indie?"

He groans, but finally fesses up. "Closer to Indie's size."

I jump on him again. "Bitch, who's the size queen?" Then I notice a bandage sticking out. "What happened there?"

He rolls his eyes. "I'm going to regret this," he says as he lifts one side of the bandage. Underneath is a scabbed-over bite.

"This guy?" I point to his phone.

"Yeah," he says as he rolls off me. "Right at the climax." He puts his hands over his face as if in shame. "I came so hard."

"Damn, Bo Peep, you went from bears to wolves."