Page 32 of Give In To Love
JIMMY
We endedour date with ice cream before heading back to our dorm. TJ kissed me long and slow, standing in the middle of the room before releasing me to get ready for bed. I lay awake for hours, wondering what all this meant for us. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.
On Sunday, we spent some time catching up on homework until mid-afternoon, when we headed out separately to spend time with our families. I had Sunday dinner with the Salgados while TJ’s family was putting the finishing touches on plans for his grandma’s birthday celebration next weekend. It was wild how much I didn’t want to be separated from him, considering it’d been less than twenty-four hours since he’d confessed his feelings for me. I was surely destined for heartbreak, but for once in my life, I was doing my best not to overthink it. A gorgeous, thoughtful, kind guy wanted me. How often would I have an opportunity like this?
When we returned to the dorm later that evening, we spent a couple of hours cuddled in his bed watching a movie. I didn’t fall asleep this time, though I barely paid attention to the movie. Being surrounded by his scent, with his strong arms wrapped around me and his erection—that we were both pretending not to notice—digging into my back proved to be too much of a distraction.
As the credits rolled at the end of the movie, he kissed me. There was an urgency to it this time, need and desire making his movements more aggressive than they had been before. I loved it, loved the way he so clearlywantedme. Felt it in the way he plundered my mouth and squeezed my hip and pressed his body to mine. But then he pulled back, as if it took great effort, and suggested we get ready for bed because he had an early class in the morning.
He climbed over me and off the bed without turning back, leaving me staring after him in bewilderment as he picked up his toiletry caddy and headed down the hall. A moment later, I shook myself out of my stupor, grabbed my own bag of toiletries, and followed him.
We brushed our teeth in silence, darting glances at each other in the mirror when we thought the other wasn’t looking. The silence between us was charged, but I didn’t know how to break it. I was pretty sure he was holding himself back, and I didn’t know why. I certainly didn’t want him to. But I didn’t know how to ask for what I wanted. To ask formore.
And so I spent another restless night staring at the ceiling, this time with a raging hard-on. And the worst part? I was pretty sure he hadn’t slept either.
The following morning, I awoke to the press of his lips against my forehead, and then he vanished from the room. I stared at the ceiling for another five minutes before caving and rubbing one out, needing to do something to release the mounting pressure. I didn’t feel bad about it this time.
I didn’t feel bad about it on Tuesday afternoon either. He very sweetly held my hand throughout our Ad Psych class and again through most of lunch. We headed out of the dining hall to go our separate ways—TJ to the theater building and me back to our dorm—when he stunned me by pushing me against the wall and kissing me senseless. Someone whistled as they walked past, and though I felt his responding smile against my lips, he didn’t stop his assault on my mouth. At least not until he was, once again, tearing himself away from me, chest heaving, blue eyes almost black with lust.
He muttered, “I better run,” before kissing my forehead and walking away as if he had a fire lit beneath him. Once I regained the use of my legs, I headed directly to our dorm room and jerked off, coming in record time.
I laid in bed after, belly sticky with cum, chest heaving as I breathed through the comedown. I mopped up the mess with my T-shirt, then tucked my dick away, but didn’t move to get up, instead letting my mind wander.
I’d spent the last several days in a constant state of arousal while my belly simultaneously swirled with butterflies. TJ was the perfect combination of sweet and attentive, yet he kissed me with a hungry desperation. The fact that he wanted me in any way still blew my mind. It was a constant battle not to shrink away from him, to hide myself from his attention, lest he decide he’d made a mistake. But when I’d texted the girls on Sunday afternoon, telling them about our date the night before, they’d made me promise to give it a try. Mandy had called as I was driving back into the city from dinner with the Salgados. She and Drea talked ninety miles an hour, demanding to hear every detail. They’d told me to trust him when he said he liked me. That he hadn’t given me any reason to believe he hadn’t meant it. They were happy for me, insisting that I deserved someone who treated me like I was special, and they made me promise to let myself be wooed—Mandy’s word, not mine.
I’d done my best to honor my promise. I’d allowed him to take my hand, to kiss me, to hold me. To enjoy the way he touched me every time I was near and the way he looked at me like I was the only one in the room, even in the middle of the crowded cafeteria.
And despite all of that, he was still holding himself back, and I didn’t understand. It had been less than a week since our date, so maybe I was the one who needed to calm down. I’d jerked off more times in this single week than I had since we started school a month ago. It was like he’d unlocked some hidden, horny side of me that I hadn’t known existed.
In high school, it had seemed like everyone was banging someone while I’d been the one sitting on the sidelines. It wasn’t that I hadn’t wanted to have sex. And I’d known I was gay for as long as I’d understood what that word meant. It was just that having a sexual encounter with someone meant I had to actually speak to them. Make conversation. Or at least exchange pleasantries. I hadn’t been nearly brave enough for that.
So here I was, twenty years old and a complete wallflower, dating a dreamy guy I assumed was experienced in such things, but I didn’t know how to ask for what I wanted. I wasn’t even surewhatI wanted. I just knew that I wantedmore.
* * *
Friday morning,I woke up hard and aching. Not for the first time this week, I wondered if it was possible for blue balls to cause permanent damage. To be fair, I’d woken up hard and aching every day this week, each morning feeling more desperate for relief than the last. Any awkwardness I’d felt about masturbating had flown out the window in my desperation for relief.
I lay on my side, hoping my situation was hidden. But as I watched TJ move around the room getting ready for class, I wondered if I should be more obvious about it so he might take the hint.
He pulled on his hoodie, ran his fingers through his hair, and stuck his phone in his pocket. He crossed over to my bed and nudged my knees to make room for him. I obliged, and he sat, brushing his fingers through my curls as he had a habit of doing. I leaned into the touch, a shy smile teasing my lips. I didn’t typically like when people fucked with my hair, but TJ had a way of tearing through all of my previous hangups. He was magic like that.
“I have rehearsal until seven, then I need to check in with Ma to see if she needs help with anything before the party tomorrow. Will you be around tonight? You want to grab a bite?”
My stomach flipped at the simple request. I wondered if it would always be that way with him. “I have to work, but we close at five-thirty, so I’ll be around.”
He beamed at me. “I’ll try to find some time to text Ma this afternoon, and I’ll keep you posted.”
“Sounds good.”
He leaned forward, and I tilted my head up for his kiss, savoring the feel of his lips against mine, even as my dick throbbed beneath the blankets. He brushed a thumb across my cheekbone, then rose, grabbed his backpack, and headed out.
Not more than a minute after he left, I reached for the lube I’d bought yesterday. I’d figured with all the jerking off I was doing, it was time to purchase some. I’d tried not to think about the fact that I was twenty years old and just now buying lube.
I threw off the covers as I pulled my cock out and drizzled some lube into my palm. I took my dick in hand, groaning in relief at the contact. I began to stroke, my right hand moving up and down my length in a steady rhythm. I lowered my left hand toward my balls, cupping and squeezing as my other hand picked up the pace.
I was debating sliding my left hand lower—I’d begun experimenting with inserting a fingertip—when the door opened behind me. I froze, cock in one hand and balls in the other, my heart racing somewhere in the vicinity of my throat.
The door shut, and TJ strode into view, eyes wide, pupils dilated. A flush began to make its way up his cheeks that I thought had more to do with lust than embarrassment. Though it was definitely embarrassment that had my own face flaming. “Jimmy? What are you doing?”
