Quick Summary: Noah reunites with his college bully Wes, who humiliated him years ago and now wants to talk. Wes tricks Noah into coming to his hotel room, alone, and finally confesses the truth: he bullied Noah because he was scared of wanting him. The tension explodes into a rough, desperate kiss...years of pain and lust colliding in one breathless moment.

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I stared down at him. Wes sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread, towel barely clinging to his hips. His eyes dragged up my body like he wasn’t sure if I was about to slap him or climb into his lap. His fingers grazed my thigh...featherlight. Testing the waters.

“You always this quiet when you're turned on?” he said, voice low, cracked at the edges.

I didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
I stepped in close. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off his skin. My hand slid into his hair, fingers tangling through the damp strands. He leaned into it like he’d been waiting for me to touch him for years.

The towel slipped off his shoulders, landing behind him in a quiet heap. I dragged my thumb along the curve of his jaw. Felt the stubble bite my skin.

"Show me," I said. "Show me you're sorry."

His breath caught... just a hitch and then he moved.
Hands slow. Careful. Like he was afraid he’d break the moment if he moved too fast. He pushed my shirt up, eyes tracing every inch of skin like it was sacred. I let him lift it over my head. Toss it aside.

He stared. Like he didn’t believe I was real. Then his mouth found my stomach, a soft, reverent kiss that made every muscle twitch.

Lower.

Lower.

His fingers trembled as he popped my belt. Dragged my zipper down. I kicked off my jeans and briefs, cock heavy between us. Wes stared at it like he’d just found religion.

“I’ve never done this before,” he said, voice barely there. “Never even kissed a guy before tonight.”

I tightened my grip in his hair. Tugged just enough to make him look up at me.

“You sure you want to?”

“I need to,” he breathed. “Please.”

I didn’t say a word. Just let him work.

Wes leaned in, mouth opening around the head of my cock. The first feel of his mouth was hot, wet and clumsy. I made my hips jerk forward without thinking. He sucked too tight at first. Didn’t know how deep to go. But fuck, it didn’t matter. It was Wes Carter. On his knees. Lips wrapped around my cock like he needed it to breathe.

He gagged a little when he tried to take more, pulling back coughing, spit dripping down his chin.

"Fuck, that's it," I breathed, tightening my grip in his hair.

He looked up at me, eyes wild, and then he went back in.
Hungrier. Sloppier.
His mouth slid lower, wet and greedy. Cheeks hollowing. Spit pooling at the corners of his lips. The sounds—loud, obscene—made my cock throb harder against his tongue.

Watching him... watching Wes Carter... my goddamn nightmare from college, with his lips wrapped around my cock, struggling, moaning, trying so hard... it almost broke me. I rocked my hips forward, feeding him more, and he took it. Gagged again but didn’t stop. His hands gripped my thighs like he needed to hold onto something real.

“Good boy,” I muttered, voice low.

Wes whimpered at that, actually whimpered and sucked harder, rubbing his thighs together like he couldn’t help it. The sound of him, messy, desperate, so fucking needy, filled my head, my chest, my cock.

He pumped the base with one hand, sloppy and desperate. His other hand clutched my leg like it was the only thing tethering him to earth. He sucked harder, faster, chasing the rhythm like his life depended on it.

“Jesus, Wes...” I growled. “You are doing so fucking good.”

He pumped the base of my shaft with one hand, jerky and wet, while he bobbed his head, getting sloppier by the second. He whimpered around me and it went straight to my balls. His eyes fluttered closed. He sucked harder like he needed the praise. Like he’d never been called anything that made him feel wanted before. His hand pumped the base in sloppy strokes while his mouth worked the rest.

Spit dripped from the corner of his mouth. He was a mess.
My mess.

"Fuck, Wes..." I growled, tugging his hair, trying to pull him back.

But he fought it. Shook his head. Mouthed deeper onto me like he wanted it. Like he needed to finish what he started.

Watching him... watching my college bully gagging on my dick, struggling to take me deeper, choking and still fucking trying... it did something to me. And then his throat tightened around my cock, when I felt the hot clench of him swallowing me down, I lost it.

My whole body shuddered, heat tearing through me like wildfire. My cock throbbed deep inside his mouth.

After a while, he popped off, gasping, spit stringing from his lips to the head of my cock before it snapped. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, chest rising and falling hard. His cheeks were flushed deep red. His hair was a mess where I’d been gripping it.

He caught his breath, then huffed a small, wrecked laugh.

"Damn," Wes said, voice hoarse. "That's a new feeling."

I just stared at him. At the boy who once made my life hell, now kneeling there like he’d been built to fall apart for me.

Wes pushed himself up, slow, still breathing heavy. And then he sat back onto the bed. Legs spreading wide. Arms resting loose on his thighs. Casual. Open. But his eyes stayed locked on me the whole time. Hungry. Waiting. Daring me to make the next move.

Without a word, I dropped to my knees.

Wes's eyes locked onto mine, his breath quickening as the towel barely hung on, the tension between us so thick you could taste it.

I looked up at him, a grin tugging at my lips. “Think you can handle my throat, big guy?”

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Wes lay back slowly, towel still clinging low on his hips, legs spreading like he was getting comfortable, like this wasn’t the same guy who used to smirk at me across lecture halls and whisper shit with his friends behind his hand.

Now?

His thighs were open for me. Muscles tense. His cock twitching beneath the towel.

And I was on my knees between them. I kissed the inside of his thigh, slow, soft, teasing, right where the skin was warm and smooth and vulnerable. I heard him exhale, shaky, like he didn’t trust himself to speak. My lips brushed higher, and I felt his cock jerk against the fabric.

“Fuck,” Wes muttered, one hand sliding over his abs. The other dropped to the bed beside him. “That mouth is dangerous.”

I smirked, letting my hands roam up his thighs, then across his hips, palms warm against his skin. I ran them slowly up his chest, feeling his pecs twitch under my touch, brushing lightly over his nipples.

Wes’s breath caught. His eyes locked on mine. And then, that grin. Crooked, teasing, familiar.

“You’re really down there trying to suck my dick, huh?” Wes said, breath hitching, eyes dark with disbelief. “After all those years... now you’re just down there, eating it up.”

His voice was half-mocking, but there was something else under it, something breathless. Like even he couldn’t believe what was happening.

I glanced up at him, letting my fingers graze the edge of the towel draped dangerously low over his hips.
“Mm,” I murmured, voice lazy. “To be fair… you were the one gagging on me earlier.”

Wes blinked.
Then he laughed. One short, stunned burst. Like I’d sucker-punched the wind out of him. He ran a hand over his face, head tipping back on the pillow.

“Touché,” he muttered, smirking at the ceiling. “Fuck.”

His eyes cut back to mine, sharp again. “Looks like I was right in college after all.”

I narrowed my eyes, lips quirking. “Oh yeah?”

He raised a brow, smug. “You did wanna suck my dick.”

I huffed out a laugh, low and dirty. “Please. If anything, you wanted to make me.”

Wes shrugged, cock twitching beneath the towel. “Same difference.”

My fingers slipped under the fabric, tracing the line of his V slowly. I leaned up, dragging my lips across the skin just above the towel’s edge.

“God, you’re such a cocky asshole,” I whispered.

“And you’re still on your knees,” he shot back, breath catching as I pressed a soft kiss to the inside of his thigh.

I didn’t answer. Just slid my hand higher, letting my palm smooth up his chest across the flat muscle of his pec, over his nipple. He shivered.

“You’ve been working out more,” I murmured, almost to myself.

“I was always jacked,” he said, but his voice was shakier now.

“Not like this.”

Wes’s abs twitched under my fingers. I dragged my touch back down slowly, brushing along his side, feeling the heat rolling off him. My mouth followed, kissing his stomach, nuzzling softly against the skin just beside his cock, still trapped under the towel. His hips lifted a little. Unconscious. Hungry.

I met his eyes again.

“Take it off,” he said.

So I did. Tugged the towel away slowly, like I was unwrapping a gift I’d waited years to touch. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, already leaking. My breath caught. He watched me watching him, eyes locked on mine like it was too much, like he didn’t know how to process the way I looked at him now.

I leaned in, kissed the base of his shaft. Let my tongue flick out, just enough to make him twitch. My hand curled around him gently.

“Fuck, Noah,” he gasped. “Your hand…” His voice dropped to something raw. “It’s so soft.”

I stroked him slowly, feeling him pulse in my grip.

“I hate to admit how much I’ve been wanting this,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. I lowered my mouth to his balls, kissing one, then the other, then taking one into my mouth gently. My hand kept moving on his shaft, slow and steady, just enough to keep him on edge.

Wes groaned, long and low and let his legs fall wider apart. “This feels... Noah, this is insane.” He slid a hand into my hair. Not pulling. Just anchoring.

I switched sides, now taking the other ball in my mouth, letting my tongue roll under it, wet and soft. His hips jerked up slightly, involuntary. I tightened my grip on his cock, pumping him a little faster.

Wes moaned. It tore out of him, breathless and shaky.
“You’re so fucking good at this,” he panted. “Jesus. I can’t...”

Click.

A sound.

Not from him.

Not from me.

The unmistakable, heart-stopping sound of a keycard sliding through the door. Wes’s entire body jolted. “Shit!” he gasped, scrambling upright, yanking the towel back over himself.

I pulled off him in an instant, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, heart hammering in my throat.

The door creaked open. Light spilled into the dim hotel room.

And then...

“Yo, you in here, bro?”

Wes’s face drained of color.

I turned toward the door just as a tall figure stepped inside. Gym bag slung over his shoulder. Muscles straining under a tank. Blonde hair. Big grin.

Ryan Evans.

Wes’s old jock buddy. His hotel roommate. And apparently… not gone for the night after all.

Ryan took one look at me... shirtless, flushed, kneeling between Wes’s open thighs and stopped cold. His eyes dragged from me to Wes. The towel barely covering anything. Wes’s cheeks red. His chest rising fast.

Then Ryan let out a low, disbelieving laugh. “Noah?” he said.

Silence.

He grinned wider. “Bro. Were you...?” He cut himself off with another bark of laughter. “Were you blowing him or something?!”

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