Harris, Daisy - Player and the Prude [Men of Holsum College 4] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove)

Men of Holsum College 4

Player and the Prude

Brooks Price loves a challenge. So when a frenemy dares him to
sleep with a dorky, over-tall film major, Brooks amps up his
considerable charm.

Matt Porter can’t guess why Brooks is flirting with him. Raised
religious, Matt doesn’t believe in sex before relationships.
Unfortunately, Brooks is all about sex, and Matt doubts Brooks is
interested in anything else.

Slowly, Brooks chips away at Matt’s armor—taking him on dates,
asking for kisses, holding hands—baby steps, none of which Matt
can resist or refuse. However, when Brooks pushes too far, Matt
freaks out.

Despite his stoic exterior, Matt’s painfully conflicted over his
sexuality—scared of his darker desires, worried about hurting
Brooks. The pair explores boundaries, but when things turn rough
and Matt unleashes his inner wants, he doesn’t know if he can
overcome his shame about sex in order to be with the man he’s
growing to love.

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Contemporary
Length: 35,376 words

PLAYER AND THE PRUDE

Men of Holsum College 4

Daisy Harris

EROTIC ROMANCE

MANLOVE

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ManLove

PLAYER AND THE PRUDE
Copyright © 2012 by Daisy Harris
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-979-8

First E-book Publication: August 2012

Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED:  This  literary  work  may  not  be
reproduced  or  transmitted  in  any  form  or  by  any  means,  including
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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance
to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If  you  have  purchased  this  copy  of Player  and  the  Prude by  Daisy
Harris  from  BookStrand.com  or  its  official  distributors,  thank  you.
Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or
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The  author  and  the  publisher  work  very  hard  to  bring  our  paying
readers high-quality reading entertainment.

This  is  Daisy  Harris’s  livelihood. It’s  fair  and  simple. Please  respect
Ms. Harris’s right to earn a living from her work.

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PLAYER AND THE PRUDE

Men of Holsum College 4

DAISY HARRIS

Chapter One

Brooks checked out the overseer’s ass. It wasn’t half bad—the

part of it Brooks could see under the guy’s worn-out green-and-brown
sweater.  Unfortunately,  the  dude  overseeing  the  lacrosse  team’s
community  service  had  all  the  style  and  personality  of  a  wet  mop.
Messy,  dishwater-blond  hair,  mud-colored  eyes.  Mentally,  Brooks
removed  the  dude’s  ugly  outfit  and  imagined  him  on  all  fours  on
Brooks’s bed. Preferably with a bag over his face.

“The fuck are you doing, Price?” Hunter Ford snapped his fingers

in front of Brooks’s face, drawing Brooks’s attention back to the cans
they were piling. “We’re never getting out of this hellhole if you keep
mixing  up  beans  and  tomatoes.”  Though  Hunter  was  only  a
sophomore, he was one of the captains of the lacrosse team. Between
his  position  on  the  team  and  his  considerable  family  connections,
Hunter was one of the few people Brooks let push him around.

“Whatever. Who the fuck eats this shit anyway?” Brooks read the

label  on  the  can  he  was  holding  and  winced.  Beans  and  franks?  He
didn’t  think  such  a  thing  existed  outside  documentaries  about  the
Great Depression.

Someone scoffed behind him, and Brooks knew it was the

overseer guy. Jesus, just because the dude did work-study in the

Player and the Prude

kitchens, Brooks didn’t see why he thought he could act like Brooks
and Hunter’s boss.

“Y’know, there are some people in the world who don’t know

where their next meal is coming from,” the overseer said.

Brooks turned slowly, pausing to take in the guy’s bruised Nike

sneakers, his baggy clothes, and the dingy mess of his hair. The guy
had to be six and a half feet tall, but Brooks was in too crappy of a
mood to take the guy’s shit. “Dude, I don’t know what your problem
is, but we’re doing the job, okay? Keep your preachy shit to yourself.”

The guy’s eyes widened like he was startled, but Brooks didn’t

bother waiting for him to stammer out some kind of comeback.
Instead, he turned back to the cans and boxes. He smiled when he
heard how Hunter was snickering.

Footsteps slapped the floor as the enormous freak walked away.
“I think he’s gonna go cry into his huge pillow.” Hunter stood

closer than Brooks liked. He had been doing that a lot lately. They
had only hooked up a few times, but Brooks was getting the feeling
Hunter thought they had something more going on than they did.

Brooks dragged packing tape over the top of a box. The team may

have been required to put in ten hours of community service to fulfill
Holsum College’s Players  as Philanthropists program, but that didn’t
mean  they  had  to  like  it.  Or  pretend  to  be  nice.  “I  hate  that  holier-
than-thou bullshit.” Brooks peeked over his shoulder at the guy’s ass
again. He was developing a twisted fascination  with it—weird, since
otherwise, he didn’t like the guy.

He had nice shoulders, too, broader than Brooks had noticed

before.

“For someone who hates to be preached at, you’re certainly

checking him out enough.”

Matt! That was the overseer’s name. Matt Porter. The name had

been on the tip of Brooks’s tongue for an hour, like a niggling itch he
couldn’t reach to scratch. Matt lived with a guy Brooks used to screw
around with on occasion…Fuck. Now Brooks was going to spend the

Daisy Harris

remaining hours of his shift trying to remember what the other guy’s
name was. “Might as well look. I got nothing else to do. Not like
stacking…” Brooks read another can’s label. “Not like boxing pearl
onions requires all my mental energy.”

Hunter lifted his box off the table and stacked it with the rest. “If

you’re  really  bored,  you  should  try  getting  with  him.”  Typical
Hunter—he  alternated  between  trying  to  get  closer  to  Brooks  and
daring Brooks to fuck other guys.

The dude was on such a power trip.
Brooks screwed up his face with as much indignation as he could

muster.  Yeah,  the  guy,  Matt,  was  big—and  Brooks  had  sort  of
wondered  lately  what  it  might  be  like  to  be  with  a  guy  bigger  than
him, who might have the strength to hold him down, or at least put up
a fight while Brooks held him down.

But even if the overseer had that kind of size, he carried his head

tucked back  and his  shoulders rolled forward.  Like he was  scared of
his  own  shadow.  Plus,  there  was  the  dorkishness  factor.  “Ew.  Have
you seen his sweater?”

“You don’t have to fuck his clothes.” Hunter wiped his eyes, as if

the thought of someone having sex with Matt was so funny it made
him cry.

“Yeah, but I’d remember his clothes.” Brooks grinned wickedly.

“And I wouldn’t be able to get them out of my mind the whole time I
was railing him.” To Brooks’s surprise, he enjoyed the mental image
of pounding into Matt, maybe even while he was wearing the horrible
sweater and the white-collared shirt underneath. Kinky.

“I’ll give you five hundred bucks if you can do it.” Hunter stopped

packing,  and  turned  around  to  stare  at  Matt.  Unlike  Brooks,  Hunter
loved  the  idea  of  getting  with  guys  who  were  smaller  and  weaker.
Matt Porter didn’t fit that  bill  physically, but  his  personality fit it in
spades.  Hunter  leaned  back  against  the  table.  “A  thousand  if  you’re
his first.”

Player and the Prude

Brooks let out a scoff. He didn’t need the money, but he was

tempted—if nothing  else, he wanted to  show  Hunter  up.  Brooks had
voted  to  make  Hunter  captain  of  the  lacrosse  team.  He’d  swallowed
on the occasions when they’d been drunk enough to hook up, and had
even put up with Hunter’s weird domination shit.

College was all about networking, and there were a lot of things

Brooks would do to keep on the in with the son of a senator, but he
was getting a little sick of Hunter’s fucking attitude. “You better save
up, man. Because I can so tap that.” Brooks looked at the way Matt
stood and how his pants rode high on his ankles. “And I’m sure I’ll be
his first.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hunter resumed his packing. “I’d like to see you

try.”

“Watch and learn, my friend.” Brooks slapped Hunter’s shoulder.

He was one of the biggest studs in school and knew he’d have no
trouble bagging the loser in the khakis. Whether it would be any fun
was a whole different matter.

The kitchens smelled like wilting produce and bleach. Long metal

tables filled the giant room, with three different sports teams working
off their community service for the food drive. Brooks wove through
the  piles  of  boxes  and  around  a  few  girls  from  the  softball  team.
“Hey.” Brooks jogged up behind Matt. He slid his gaze up the guy’s
torso.  Yeah,  under  his  clothes,  Matt  probably  had  a  decent  body,
though Brooks couldn’t remember ever seeing him in the gym.

Matt didn’t turn around. “Yeah?” He hauled open the door to the

giant walk-in refrigerator and stepped inside, releasing a smelly waft
of cabbage. “What do you need now?”

Brooks hadn’t really thought about what he was going to say, so

he scanned the shelves, looking for inspiration. It was fucking
freezing in the walk-in, and he rubbed his bare arms, cursing that he’d
left his sweatshirt at his workstation. “Where can I get some more
masking tape?” The question made him sound like an idiot, since he’d

Daisy Harris

asked the same thing only a half hour ago, but he hoped Matt
wouldn’t remember.

“Brooks, you know perfectly well I said the packing supplies were

on the tables out in the cafeteria.” Matt sounded bored and a little
disgusted. He checked things off on his clipboard as he looked at the
shelves.

“You know my name?” Brooks blurted. He wasn’t sure why he

was surprised, but he was.

“Of course I know your name.” No expression, not even an eye

roll. Matt just kept counting boxes of frozen vegetables, taking notes
on his inventory sheet. “You’ve been to my house, for Pete’s sake.”

“Well, yeah.” Brooks recovered. “But we’ve never been

introduced.” He held out his hand.

Matt rotated slowly, and then stared down at Brooks’s hand like it

was  a  piece  of  last  week’s  salad.  His  gaze  was  so  steady  Brooks
almost took a step backward. “Yeah, we have. At an Eta Xi party my
freshman  year,  and  again  when  we  were  in  the  same  history  class,
once at  homecoming,  then again  when  you  came to  the house to  see
Gabe.”

“Gabe!” Brooks felt tension roll off his shoulders, that sense of

relief when one remembered the word he’d forgotten. “God, thanks
for reminding me. That name’s been driving me nuts.”

Matt blinked, and though his face was as impassive as usual,

Brooks had the feeling that he was fighting a sneer.

“What?”
“You forgot Gabe’s name?” Before Brooks could answer, Matt

turned back to his work. “Forget it. Clearly, you didn’t give a hoot
about him.” He sounded…maybe petulant.

“I don’t think Gabe gave a hoot about me, either.” He wasn’t

being self-deprecating. Brooks and Gabe had hooked up only a couple
times, in the most casual of circumstances. Much like most of
Brooks’s hookups. Plus, Gabe was sweet and nice—totally not
Brooks’s type.

Player and the Prude

“Fine.” Matt closed his eyes. “You’re right. Gabe didn’t care. But

still—”

“Were you into Gabe or something?” Sheesh. He didn’t know why

Matt gave a shit one way or another. More than that, he didn’t know
why it bugged him that Matt did.

“No. Let’s just drop it.” Matt grabbed a box of something off the

shelves, read the label, and frowned.

“But you are gay, though, right?”
Matt replaced the item and then checked the label on the next one.

“That’s a personal question to ask someone you just met, don’t you
think?”

Brooks tilted his head coyly. “You said we’ve known each other

for years.” Anyway, Brooks didn’t think it was inappropriate to ask a
guy if he was gay, and he was getting chilled and annoyed. If Matt
didn’t bat for his team, the bet with Hunter was off.

“Fine, yes.” Matt spun around, checking another shelf.
“Yes, we’ve known each other for years?” The second after

Brooks asked, he realized Matt had been answering a different
question. He rubbed his arms in annoyance. “Oh.”

Matt pushed a bunch of boxes down to the far end of the shelf.

Then he moved a huge container in front of them to block them from
sight.

“What are you doing?” Brooks stepped around Matt, making sure

to rub up against him. Yeah, that ass felt as good as it looked. Matt’s
back was hard and strong. Brooks read the labels of the boxes on the
shelf. He snickered. “What do you have against creamed corn?”

Matt’s lip twitched at the corner, though it dropped back into

place right away. “I really don’t like the stuff.” He shrugged, going
back to his inventory, but Brooks wasn’t going to let him off so easy.
The crack in Matt’s mundane, superior armor was too perfect for
Brooks not to wedge in a spike.

“So, you’re going to make sure no one else gets to eat it, either?

What, you’re the judge, jury, and executioner of frozen foods?” He

Daisy Harris

tried to sound offended more than amused, but wasn’t sure he’d
managed it.

With a huff, Matt stepped around Brooks to where the container—

Brooks thought it was mayonnaise—blocked sight of the boxes. He
shoved Brooks in the process, but Brooks didn’t make it easy for Matt
to get past. He pushed back a little, forcing Matt to muscle through. In
the process, Brooks got a feel for Matt’s bulk and weight. He was
solid, and smelled pretty good.

“Are you happy now?” Matt pulled the mayonnaise off the shelf

and put it on the other side, clearing the way for someone to find the
offending corn. He raised his eyebrows, daring Brooks to laugh.

Brooks pinched his lips together to stop the snicker from escaping.

When he was sure he could talk without chuckling, he said, “Yes. I
happen to like creamed corn. So, yes, I am happy.”

Matt slapped his clipboard down on a shelf and set his pen on top

of it. “Get out, Brooks.”

“Why?” He was actually freezing his balls off, but Brooks wanted

to needle Matt further.

“Because…” Matt closed his eyes again, as if he were trying to

quell his temper. The weird thing was he didn’t seem to have any
temper to speak of. The guy barely showed any emotions at all.
“You’re annoying me.”

“Or maybe I’m turning you on.” Brooks took a step forward,

lowering his eyes to a half-lidded gaze in invitation. He could get off
in a refrigerator if he had to, and man, would that wipe the smirk off
Hunter’s face.

Matt pushed past him again, adding a hint of a shove that—

surprisingly—kind of turned Brooks on. He opened the door, and
warmth rushed in from the kitchen. When Matt stepped outside, he
muttered, “Not hardly.”

Reflexively, Brooks rubbed his arms. He started to follow, but

then saw Gabe approaching Matt from the other direction. It’s not like
Brooks and Gabe were enemies or anything, but past hookups always

Player and the Prude

threw  Brooks  off  his  game.  “Whatever  you  say,  Matt.”  He  used
Matt’s name to solidify  it in his mind. If he was going to make this
thing  happen,  he  couldn’t  forget  it  again.  When  Matt  mumbled
something  in  reply,  Brooks  asked,  “See  you  later,  right?”  He  didn’t
wait for an answer, but strutted back over to Hunter, hoping that Matt
was watching him leave.

Hunter looked like he was trying not to bust up laughing. “Man.”

He set down his handfuls of cans. “He so just blew you off.” Hunter
smirked, the gleam in his eyes showing how much he enjoyed making
Brooks fuck up.

Brooks scowled as he grabbed a couple handfuls of cans. He

didn’t  mind  a  good  check  on  the  lacrosse  field,  and  he  dished  them
out as often as received them. But it bugged him the way Hunter was
always  trying  to  psyche  him  out,  or  pull  some  kind  of  upper  hand.
Brooks would take a punch over a sneer any day of the week.

“He did not.” Brooks snatched up the containers Hunter was

sorting and dropped them in his own box. When he glanced in Matt’s
direction, Matt was engrossed in a conversation with Gabe and wasn’t
paying Brooks any attention at all.

* * * *

“What was his deal?” Gabe asked. “He looked kinda smitten.

What did you say to him?”

Matt pondered Gabe’s question, not sure how to describe what

had  happened.  One  second,  he  was  doing  his  job,  and  the  next,
Brooks  Price,  of  all  people,  was  flirting  with  him.  At  least,  Matt
assumed  he  was  flirting.  He  didn’t  really  have  enough  experience  to
know for sure. “I didn’t say anything.” He tried to gather some kernel
of their conversation and make it make sense. “I think he introduced
himself.”

Gabe snorted. “Fucking Brooks, man. He’s a trip.”

Daisy Harris

“He’s a jerk, is what.” Matt led Gabe over to a pile of boxes set

aside for the assisted living facility where Gabe volunteered.

Gabe jangled the keys to the rented truck, clearly excited about

having a chance to drive. Like Matt, Gabe didn’t have a car. He tilted
the dolly full of boxes and started wheeling it out to the loading dock.
“Oh, Brooks’s not so bad. A little self-involved, maybe.”

“A little?” Matt lifted a box off the pile and set it in the back of

the truck. Then he picked up another. The cool spring air felt amazing
after the stifling warmth of the kitchens. “He’s selfish, mean, a total
whore…” Matt wasn’t going to mention how Brooks always got him
hard as a pike.

It wasn’t just the way the guy looked, either. Something about

how Brooks waved that tight ass of his at every damn guy on campus
made Matt so angry he wanted to punch something—and so horny he
could barely breathe. “I could never see dating a guy like…” Matt
trailed off when he saw the expression on Gabe’s face.

“Didn’t you have a thing for Brooks when you first got to

school?”

“No.” Matt answered a little too fast. He hated admitting to

himself  how  he’d  felt  about  Brooks  Price,  much  less  telling  his
housemate.  His  housemate  who’d  probably  slept  with  the  guy.  “I
mean, I remember him from that year. It was hard not to.” Brooks had
seemed  superhuman  back  then—blindingly  white  teeth,  highlighted
hair, a body to die for. He’d gotten blown by every gay kid in Matt’s
freshman class, and some who weren’t even out yet. Well, every gay
kid but Matt.

“Really?” Gabe looked skeptical. “Because you have a lot of

opinions about him for someone who doesn’t care.”

Matt hauled a few more boxes as an excuse to get out of talking,

but he knew Gabe wasn’t going to let it go. Once his housemate got
his hands on some perceived issue, he clung like a baby monkey to its
mother’s fur.

“Are you sure you don’t want to give him a try?” Gabe asked.

Player and the Prude

“He’s probably just messing with me anyway.”
Brooks was like one of those freaky-looking orchids from the rain

forest. They were attractive, but spooky. Too beautiful to be real.

“Well, it’s entirely possible he’s just trying to sleep with you, but

would that be so bad?”

Matt fumbled the box he’d been carrying and dropped to an

awkward crouch to stop it from hitting the pavement. “What?”

Gabe stared at Matt as if he felt sorry for him. “Sex? The

horizontal bone dance? I’m not saying Brooks wants to be your
boyfriend, but he’s not bad in bed.”

Matt struggled not to picture his roommate in a compromising

position  with  Brooks.  It  was  way  too  easy  to  imagine  Brooks  Price
having sex. The guy looked built for it, as if he were on the verge of
ripping  his  clothes  off  any  second.  Ripping  his  clothes  off  and
grabbing his ankles. “Oh, crap,” Matt cursed himself. He’d made the
mistake of letting his brain go to the bad place and now his dick was
expanding  at  an  awkward  angle  in  his  pants.  He  sat  on  the  truck’s
back bumper, hiding his erection from Gabe’s too-observant sight.

“It’s fine to be attracted to Brooks. He’s a good-looking guy. And

it’s perfectly normal to—”

“You know how I feel about this.” Matt crossed one leg over the

other, giving his hard-on space. He thought about baseball and female
gym teachers and creamed corn, trying to get his dick to behave.
Unfortunately, the last one only made the throbbing worse.

“You’d find a boyfriend a lot faster if you gave guys a chance.”
Most guys on campus thought sex was no big deal, but Matt

hadn’t been raised that way. Actually, he’d been raised to think that
men like him were going to hell and needed to be “saved” from their
abhorrent thoughts. Sure, he’d gotten over believing that by the end of
his first semester at college. However, Matt couldn’t shake the feeling
that if he was going to get physical with someone, it should be in the
confines of a relationship.

Daisy Harris

Of course, a relationship was darn hard to get into when everyone

you knew had sex first and dated later.

“I do give guys a chance.” Lying to Gabe made Matt’s penis

deflate enough so he felt comfortable standing. He grabbed a box that
Gabe was having trouble lifting and set it in the truck.

“Like hell you do.” Gabe hopped into the bed of the pickup and

shoved piles to the back. “Who was the last guy you flirted with?”

Matt rolled the dolly back into the kitchen, trying to escape

Gabe’s questioning. Maybe in a busy room, Gabe would take the hint
and leave him alone. He had perfectly good reasons to avoid sex,
though he wasn’t going to outline them for his housemate. Out of the
corner of his mouth, Matt said, “I flirt.”

“Really? Like with who?” Gabe turned sideways to get between

several towers of boxes.

“Lots of people.” Matt tried to sound less defensive than he felt. It

wasn’t his fault college was a cesspool of depravity.

No. That was his mom talking. Matt knew plenty of decent guys—

and girls—in college, and he tried really hard not to judge them based
on how many people they slept with. But Brooks was another issue
altogether. The guy was like a public toilet—everyone had sat on him
at some point. Plus, Brooks wasn’t a very nice person.

Damn. His dick was getting hard again.
“How about this…” Gabe grabbed the dolly out of Matt’s hands.

He loaded it, tilted it an angle, and rolled it toward the exit.

“Do I even want to hear it?” Matt furtively adjusted himself into a

more comfortable position as they walked.

“Probably not.” Gabe turned to back through the door. He kicked

the rubber bumper behind him, trying to get more space, until Matt
reached over Gabe’s head and held the door open. “I think you should
give him a shot.”

Matt glanced back into the kitchens, spying Brooks talking to his

obnoxious friend. “I don’t even think he’s interested.”

Player and the Prude

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Okay, well, if he seems interested—like he

asks you to meet him at a party or something—you say yes.” He
pulled up the dolly in front of the truck.

“You want me to have sex with him?” Matt hauled a couple boxes

into the truck bed. “I’m not going to do that.” He couldn’t be another
notch in Brooks Price’s bedpost. Just—no.

“Dude, no one’s going to make you have sex with him. Just hang

out, flirt.” Gabe grabbed a box out of Matt’s arms and set it on the
tailgate. He gave Matt a snarky look. “If there’s anyone on campus
you can practice flirting with, it’s Brooks. He’s a master.”

Matt felt his face heating, and—to his horror—his body

tightening. “Yeah, but if I flirt with him, he’ll think I want to have
sex.”

“And you’re scared he’s gonna force himself on you?” Gabe

smirked.

“Duh, no.” Matt wasn’t worried about that. Brooks was buff, but

Matt had five inches of height on the guy. If anything, Matt was
scared of hurting him.

Anyway, Brooks didn’t need to force himself on anyone. The guy

was almost painfully attractive.

“It would do you good to hang out with someone who’s

interested.”

Matt wasn’t going to argue again how Brooks probably wasn’t

interested. “I’m not going to have sex with him.” Matt said it as much
to himself as he did to Gabe. He could resist temptation, but it would
be more of a challenge if temptation waved itself right under his nose.

Daisy Harris

Chapter Two

Matt ducked around one of the library’s stacks before Brooks

could see him. It wasn’t easy to hide when you were almost six and a
half feet tall, but Matt had been doing his best for the past few days.
Everywhere  he’d  gone  since  Sunday  in  the  kitchens,  Brooks  was
hanging  out,  or  studying,  or  just  plain  loitering.  If  Matt  didn’t  know
better, he would have thought Brooks was going out of his way to run
into him.

He took a fortifying breath and stepped away from the wall of

books. There was no avoiding it—he needed to check out a wide-
angle lens for the project he was shooting, and all loans from the film
department had to go through the main library. If he ran into Brooks,
so be it.

The library had three levels, with the basement housing esoteric

periodicals  no  one  ever  looked  at  besides  the  grad  students,  and  the
second  floor  open  in  the  center  and  curving  around  in  a  semicircle
above the main floor. Matt faced the room full of tables and the walls
pockmarked with indented cubbies, trying to calculate the best way to
get from point A to point B without being noticed. Deciding on speed
over planning, he set off walking. Matt kept his  eyes trained straight
ahead  on  the  checkout  desk,  hoping  that  if  he  didn’t  look  Brooks’s
direction, Brooks wouldn’t notice he was there.

He got halfway across the room without being detected, but Matt

felt it the moment Brooks looked up from his books. Like a prey
animal, he stopped in place—as if Brooks wouldn’t see him as long as
he stayed still.

Player and the Prude

But Matt had no such luck, because Brooks stood from his table

and wound through the room toward him, raising a hand in greeting.
When Brooks got close enough he didn’t have to shout, he said, “Hi,
Matt.”

“Hello.” Matt struggled not to slouch or start backing away.
“What’s up?” Brooks flashed him a smile, and it seemed like he

was even better looking than normal. His hair was short, but gelled to
perfection. He had these eyes that were so blue they didn’t seem real.

The odd thing was Brooks never did anything to draw attention to

his eyes, and Matt  was  pretty sure he would have if he realized how
attractive  they  were.  Brooks  always  wore  tight  clothes,  highlighting
every  inch  of  his  muscular  body.  But  half  the  time,  he  covered  his
best asset with sunglasses.

Like right then, when Brooks pulled a pair out of his pocket. He

slid them onto his face, hiding his eyes, and leaned casually on a
nearby table.

Matt wanted to snatch those glasses off and crush them under his

heel. He fought back the image before it could get him hard. “Picking
up a lens for my semester project.” What on earth else would Brooks
think he was doing in the library? Though, Matt supposed, he could
have been checking out a book instead.

“For a film class?”
Matt backed up a step, and his thigh hit the table behind him. The

girl working there scowled up at him, rearranging her papers.
“Cinematography. I’m a film major.”

“Cool.” Brooks watched him, waiting, as if he expected Matt to

continue.

“Um…I’m shooting a documentary about wood turtles at the state

park. So I need a different lens than what we normally use in class.”

Brooks tilted his head as if he were interested, but didn’t ask any

follow-up questions, so Matt wasn’t sure if he was supposed to keep
talking or shift the conversation back to Brooks. “So, what are you

Daisy Harris

doing here?” Crap. That was a stupid question. Matt couldn’t believe
he’d asked it.

“Oh, I was just wrapping up this essay for Microeconomics, and

then  I  was  going  to  head  out  to  Montpelier  for  an  exhibit  I’ve  been
wanting to catch at the modern art museum.” He paused thoughtfully,
in  a  way  that  seemed  pretty  choreographed.  He  folded  his  arms,
flexing  his  muscles.  “But  the  guys  I  was  gonna  go  with  bailed,  and
I’m not sure I wanna bother going on my own…”

Matt figured it was an invitation. He hadn’t had much experience

with flirting or dating, but he knew perfectly well when someone was
dropping a hint. His sisters had pulled the same “my friends ditched
me, would you come?” routine on him a bunch of times. “What’s the
exhibit?”

“I can’t remember the name, but it’s rotating from one of the

museums in New York. There are a few film clips, some photos, a lot
of comic representations. It’s an eclectic collection.”

“Oh…Well, sounds interesting. The film part, especially.” Matt

was  a  little  surprised  he  hadn’t  heard  about  the  exhibit.  Then  again,
most  of  his  classes  focused  on  production  or  history  of  film,  not  so
much  on  film  as  a  canvas  for  visual  art.  Unfortunately,  none  of  the
classes  Holsum  offered  went  in-depth  enough  in  the  area  of  nature
documentary—Matt’s main interest lately.

“Yeah, I thought you might like that.” Brooks bounced, smiling,

but then he seemed to remember he was pretending it was a chance
encounter. He pushed his hands into his pockets. “So, do you want to
come along for the ride?”

“I guess.” Matt had promised Gabe he’d give this a try, and he

wasn’t busy enough that afternoon to come up with an excuse not to
go. Still, nerves fisted in his gut, and Matt couldn’t stop himself from
saying, “But, no funny business, okay? This isn’t a date.”

Brooks cocked his head to the side like a hawk who’d spotted a

mouse. “I didn’t say it was, man.”

Player and the Prude

Matt tried to formulate a response, but none came to mind, and he

ended up  just saying,  “Oh.”  What’s worse,  Brooks’s smirk and even
those  damn  glasses  were  doing  things  to  Matt’s  body  again.  Things
that were unwanted, unneeded, and completely out of Matt’s control.

He shucked his book bag off his shoulder and held it in front of

his crotch. “I’ve gotta go fill out the paperwork for that lens.”

Brooks glanced down Matt’s front. He grinned at the book bag,

his full lips curling up higher at one side. “Meet outside at four? I
want to beat rush hour traffic.”

“Okay, see you then.” Matt held his bag as casually as he could

over the front of his body and headed to the bathrooms. The door
handle felt cool and industrial in his hand, and he dragged it open.
Matt breathed a sigh of relief that there was no one inside. He locked
the outer door and then closed himself in a stall, pressing a hand over
the length of his cock. The quiet hum of the fans covered his groan.

He stared over the toilet at the dilapidated tan walls, hoping to

calm his  arousal.  But  after a moment’s consideration, he  opened his
belt,  and  then  his  pants,  and  without  even  pulling  them  down,  he
shoved a hand into his shorts to grip his dick.

He couldn’t believe how many times he’d masturbated since

talking  to  Brooks  on  Sunday.  It  was  worse  than  when  he’d  been  in
high  school.  At  least  then  Matt  had  still  felt  guilty  enough  about
touching himself that his hard-on sometimes waned on its own.

But now, Matt couldn’t seem to stop. He’d rub until he shot, but

the relief would be brief and unsatisfying. After a few minutes, some
thought or image of Brooks would flit across his brain and Matt
would be rock hard again.

He winced at a particularly rough stroke. Matt had a scrape under

the  head  from  his  morning  whack,  but  he  ignored  the  pain  and
allowed  his  imagination  to  drift  off  to  a  scene  he  remembered  from
his freshman year—Brooks running across a field, throwing a football
with some friends. The sun had  glinted off the highlights in his hair,
and he’d looked so happy. In one shining moment, Brooks had looked

Daisy Harris

Matt’s way and smiled. Matt recalled how warm he’d gotten, how his
dick had filled to nearly painful in the shorts he’d been wearing. He’d
run back to his dorm room that day and stripped completely naked
before touching himself. And he’d thought about Brooks Price the
whole time.

Matt pressed his free hand onto the cool bathroom tile. His visions

of  Brooks  shifted,  as  they  always  did,  to  darker  and  harsher.  He
wanted to shoot on Brooks’s face, or force his cock down his throat.
Pin  him to the ground as he took  him.  He cringed, wishing he could
get  off  to  the  first  pictures—the  wholesome,  good  visions  that  led
where  Matt  wanted,  rather  than  the  aggressive,  disturbing  thoughts
that always crept in when he got close to orgasm.

As his fist sped faster, Matt scraped his nails on the bathroom

tile—he  knew  what  would  make  him  come,  and  that  the  things  that
made  him  hate  himself  were  the  only  ones  that  would  bring  even
temporary relief.

* * * *

Brooks lifted his arms and furtively smelled his pits. Not bad. He

could smell his skin through his deodorant, but he wasn’t ripe.

Yet.
Unfortunately, he always sweated more when he was nervous.

The sun beating down didn’t help, either. Why the fuck was it so
sunny in March?

He spotted Matt heading his direction from the other door of the

library.  The  stairs  were  white  and  reflected  all  the  spring  sunshine,
and  maybe  it  was  the  good  lighting,  but  Matt  didn’t  seem  as  badly
dressed  as  usual.  Yeah,  his  jeans  were  baggy,  and  his  shirt  was  a
plain, black crewneck, but he was wearing Converse sneakers, which
made him seem marginally more hip.

“Hi.” Matt came to a stop. With only the two of them standing

there, Matt towered over Brooks, his dark blond hair sandy in the

Player and the Prude

diffuse light. And Brooks realized his eyes weren’t brown, but green.
Not bright green—the kind you would notice. But more a hazel, olive-
y color. They were subtle, but nice.

“Hey, thanks for offering to keep me company.” He started

walking toward the senior lot where he kept  his  car. “D’you need to
go by  your place to  drop anything off?”  Brooks knew it was a little
much to  expect  Matt  to  ditch everything and take off with  him for  a
few  hours.  However,  he’d  done  his  research  about  Matt’s  class
schedule  before  orchestrating  his  trap,  cornering  Gabe  outside  the
cafeteria  and  grilling  him  about  Matt’s  whereabouts.  He  knew  Matt
didn’t have anything else going on.

“No. Just so long as I can leave my bag in the car when we go in.”

Matt hitched up his shoulders, as if he thought Brooks was going to
attack him or something. It looked damn goofy on a guy who
sometimes probably hit his head on doorframes.

“That’s fine.” Brooks rounded down one pathway and then onto

another. When the sidewalk fell into shade, the temperature dropped,
so  Brooks  reached  behind  him  for  his  sweatshirt.  It  was  woven
through the ties on the pack—Brooks always kept it that way when it
was  too  hot  to  wear  long  sleeves  but  too  cold  to  be  without  another
layer.

Matt must have seen what he was trying to do, because he grabbed

Brooks by the pack, forcing him to stand still. “Here, let me untie it.”
Matt’s frame cast a shadow over Brooks and sheltered him from the
wind. A second later, he handed Brooks his top.

“Give me that.” Matt held his hand out for Brooks to give him his

backpack, then held it while Brooks pulled the sweatshirt over his
head.

“Uh, thanks.” It was weird, but Matt’s casual consideration

freaked Brooks out a little. Brooks had lots of friends on campus, and
even more lovers. But he couldn’t remember the last time one of them
had done him a favor unasked. “Aren’t you going to be cold? It’ll be
dark by the time we get back.”

Daisy Harris

“No.” Matt turned in the direction of the parking lot, leading the

way as they walked. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look angry, either.
“I don’t get cold all that easily. At least not this time of year.”

“Why?” Brooks chuckled. “You from Alaska or something?”
Matt paused at Brooks’s car. “North Dakota.”
Brooks studied Matt again, this time with different eyes. Yeah, the

guy  looked  exactly  like  someone  from  the  frozen  north—like  a
scruffy,  somber  Viking.  Maybe  Brooks  had  never  noticed  it  before
because Matt always seemed so freaked out. “You don’t get cold even
in  Vermont?”  Being  from  New  Jersey,  Brooks  had  sort  of  assumed
Vermont was as chilly as it got. But he had an inkling that the center
of the country was worse.

“It’s cold here in the winter, but nothing like back home.” When

Brooks popped the locks on his Civic, Matt folded into the front seat.
In the small car, Matt’s knees nearly reached his chest. “It can get to
forty below at night.”

“Wow. I can’t even imagine.” Brooks started the car and hitched

his arm around Matt’s headrest to look backward and pull out.

Matt made a sound that was almost like a huff of air, but Brooks

knew it had to be what passed for him as a laugh. “You don’t want to
imagine.”

Brooks pulled out onto the street and turned in the direction of the

highway, feeling a small thrill of victory at having wrangled Matt into
his car. “Well, North Dakota’s never been high on my list of vacation
destinations. I guess I’ll keep it that way.”

“Good choice,” Matt said a little too aggressively. It made Brooks

think maybe there was a story buried there, but Brooks wasn’t sure if
he should ask. He chanced a toe in the water. “So, you were pretty
happy to leave?”

“Yeah.” Matt’s snicker was unkind. More unkind than Brooks had

ever heard from him.

Brooks wondered if he was seeing a hint of that temper Matt had

been trying to contain the other day in the refrigerator. “Oh.” Brooks

Player and the Prude

wondered if he should change the subject. He wasn’t sure if it would
be rude when Matt may—or may not—have been about to tell Brooks
some hairy drama from his past. “Vermont’s nice,” he added lamely.

Matt didn’t offer any more information, and since Brooks was

unused to asking people about themselves, they fell into an awkward
silence.

After what felt like an eternity, Brooks asked, “So, you’re

shooting a video about turtles?” He grasped at something he hoped
would get Matt talking.

“Yes.”
Brooks wondered if he was supposed to ask a follow-up question.

Normally, he was good at this kind of thing, but Matt wasn’t making
conversation easy. “So, are they endangered?”

Matt shrugged. “Yep. They’re endangered. Mostly from being run

over by cars or lawnmowers, or being picked up and carried around
by kids. People are idiots.” Matt stopped short with his monologue, as
if he didn’t want to let Brooks know he actually cared about
something. Or maybe because he was scared of getting worked up.

“So, uh, you’ll have to get all crouched down and stuff to film the

turtles, right?”

Matt must not have noticed Brooks’s effort at starting

conversation, because he only said, “Uh, yeah.”

Tired of trying to get Matt to speak, Brooks fiddled with his

stereo. “Hey, d’you mind if I turn this on?”

“No. Not at all.” If anything, Matt seemed relieved to not have to

come up with answers. He sat back in the seat, settling into an easy
silence while noise from the radio filled the car.

Brooks was surprised to find that he didn’t really mind the lack of

talking once he got used to it. He listened to the radio, enjoying the
drive since he seldom got far away from campus.

The trip took less than twenty minutes, and they rounded the

streets of Montpelier right as the traffic seemed to be picking up.
Brooks never had to wait more than a few seconds at a light. That

Daisy Harris

alone had him in a pretty good mood by the time he pulled in front of
Montpelier Modern Art Museum. “Well, that wasn’t too bad.”

He shifted the car into park and shut off the radio. Then Brooks

noticed the expression on Matt’s face, which was a mixture of anger
and shock. His eyes were wide, and there was a vein pulsing like
crazy in his neck. “What?”

Matt ground his teeth for a split second before asking, “Erotic art?

Really?” He pointed at the banner hanging in the front of the museum.
The sign pictured the torsos of a naked man and a naked woman, both
dripping in multicolored paint.

“What?” It wasn’t even sexual, as far as Brooks could tell. They

only showed the people’s bellies.

“Those people are naked,” Matt whispered angrily.
“Yeah? What’s the problem?” Brooks asked. Sure, he’d brought

Matt to the exhibit so they could ogle sexy pictures together, but it
wasn’t like he’d bought them a prostitute to share. “What, are you like
a bible thumper or something?”

“No.” Matt raised his voice, its baritone echoing in the tiny car.

“And don’t call people that, it’s offensive.”

“Okay, okay.” Brooks held up his hands. “I didn’t realize you

were so—”

“I’m not.” Matt shifted in his seat, his anger obvious in the flush

on his cheeks and the hard set to his jaw. He scowled in a way that
was scary and a little bit hot. “I used to be, though. Was brought up
that way. But I’m not anymore.”

“Oh.” Brooks reined in the part of him that wanted to channel

Matt’s annoyance into an angry kiss. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to
deal with the fallout of some kind of religious conditioning. Having
been raised by atheists, he found the whole concept of religion a little
frightening. Still, they’d driven all the way to the city, and though
Brooks had made up an excuse to come to the exhibit, he did actually
want to see it. “Listen, you don’t have to come. But I want to at least
check it out…”

Player and the Prude

“No.” Matt shook his head. He made this little gesture with his

hands like he was arguing with himself. It was incredibly subtle, but
Brooks was getting used to Matt’s hints of movement. Matt gave him
the world’s tiniest eye roll. “I’ll go in.” He stopped short with his grip
on the handle. “But I want to point out to you that I said ‘no sex.’ So
you’re technically violating the terms of this date.”

Brooks smirked. “I believe you said, ‘No funny business’, and this

isn’t a ‘date.’”

“W-well,” he stammered. “You’re violating that, too.”
“Mmmm…Tell me what else you want me to violate.” Brooks

winked, but before Matt could get huffy again, he opened his door
and hopped out of the car. He didn’t miss Matt’s blush.

“You are so full of yourself.” Matt stepped past him and led the

way toward the doors of the art museum. Brooks let him take the lead,
because that allowed him to check out Matt’s ass, which was even
better in jeans than it had been in khakis.

“It’s on me, by the way.” Brooks stepped to Matt’s side as they

reached the door. “I invited you, so I should cover the tickets.” Even
with their student discount, Brooks figured Matt might not be thrilled
about the entrance fee.

“I thought you said this wasn’t a date.” Matt’s eyes crinkled in the

corners.

Brooks guessed that was what passed for “sparkled” in North

Dakota.

On impulse, Brooks reached for Matt’s hand. “It’s not a date. It’s

you taking advantage of my generosity.”

“Your generosity?” Matt pulled his hand out of Brooks’s hold. He

made a snort like a laugh, more obvious than any laugh Brooks had
heard from him up to that point.

“Hey, I’m a generous guy.” Brooks tried not to be offended. He

didn’t have too many opportunities to do shit for other people, but he
liked to, sometimes. And it’s not like Hunter or any of his other

Daisy Harris

friends were around to sneer at him about paying. “If you don’t wanna
accept my offer, man, I don’t give a—”

“I’m just kidding.” Matt leaned a little closer, as if he were

considering bumping into Brooks’s side but couldn’t bring himself to
make contact. Still, Brooks appreciated the effort. “I’m glad to
partake of this newfound generosity.” Matt stepped out of the way
and let Brooks get to the counter. “Now buy us some tickets before I
change my mind.”

Player and the Prude

Chapter Three

Matt had never had a hard-on for so long in his entire life. Each

step pinched his dick at a weird angle, and every time his fly rubbed
that spot under his head where he was scraped, Matt thought he was
going to have to shove his pants off and hump something—preferably
something softer than his own hand.

“Oh, cool. More anime. The last exhibit I went to only had a little,

and  it  was  all  straight.”  Brooks  read  the  placard  next  to  an  intricate
drawing  of  a  man  tied  up  and  being  taken  both  anally  and  orally  by
two others. He showed nothing but casual artistic interest.

Meanwhile, Matt knew his eyes must be bugging out of his head.
It’s not like Matt hadn’t seen stuff like that. He’d watched porn.

But the images on the wall were somehow more dramatic. Or maybe
it was that he was looking at them in a public place, where anyone
could pass by, instead of in the privacy of his home. And of course, he
was with Brooks Price, who seemed like the kind of guy who’d done
every single thing the pictures on the walls showed, and then some.
Whom Matt wanted to do every one of those things to, and then some.

“I wish more gay artists worked with the pin-up style. I love

anime,  don’t  get  me  wrong.  But  it’s  hard  to  find  mid-century-style
comics  with  gay  themes,”  Brooks  mused,  moving  onto  the  next
framed  poster.  It  was  a  close-up  of  a  giant  cock  penetrating  an
asshole.

Matt didn’t want to look—looking would just make walking more

uncomfortable—but couldn’t drag away his gaze.

Daisy Harris

“Ooh, that’s pretty hot.” Brooks waggled his eyebrows, smiling.

He gestured to a poster of several men who looked like sexualized
half animals.

The art hung against black walls, and people milled about looking

at the posters as if it were perfectly normal to watch guys having sex
on a Thursday afternoon.

“Which is your favorite?”
Matt opened his mouth, but couldn’t force out a word. Instead, he

accidentally swallowed a stray droplet of saliva the wrong way and
started coughing.

“Dude, you okay?” Brooks patted Matt on the back, but his touch

only made Matt’s dick ache worse.

“Uh, I gotta use the restroom.” Matt scanned for a sign and saw

the  telltale  symbols  for  male  and  female.  He  marched  across  the
gallery  to  the  lavatory,  took  three  steps  through  the  gray-tiled
bathroom, and shut the stall door behind him.

He got his pants out of the way and grabbed his swollen, battered

cock.  That  first  squeeze  made  him  grunt,  and  Matt  was  glad  the
bathroom was empty. He pumped as fast as he could, pausing to lick
his palm when the friction rubbed him raw. And after a dozen brutal
pulls,  his  orgasm  wrenched  itself  from  his  balls,  dribbling  over  his
fingers like a soda can that spurts because of too much pressure.

After a quick few breaths to slow his heart rate, Matt cleaned off

his hands and flushed the tissue. He listened for voices and footsteps
in the bathroom beyond, but all he heard was the tinkling sound of a
running toilet, so he opened his door.

Unfortunately, Brooks stood by the sinks, leaning against the wall

with his arms folded. His face held an odd expression—guarded,
maybe even hurt.

Matt didn’t know what his problem was. If anyone should be hurt,

it was Matt. What on earth had Brooks been doing following him,
anyway? “Excuse me.” Matt stepped past Brooks to get to the sinks
and twisted on the faucet. “What exactly are you doing in here?”

Player and the Prude

“I came in to see if you were all right.” Brooks’s eyes narrowed,

their blue depths stony. “Are you trying to make a point about
something?”

“What?” Matt paused in the midst of washing his hands. Shaking

off the water, he squared his shoulders. “What point would I possibly
be making?”

Brooks bit the edge of his lip in a move unlike any Matt had seen

from  him  before.  It  was  as  if  Brooks  was  insecure.  “Like,  that  I’m
ugly  or  something.  You’d  rather  jack  off  alone  than  hook  up  with
me.”

There it was—Brooks knew what he’d been doing in the stall.

Matt  would  have  thought  he’d  be  more  embarrassed,  but  mostly,  he
was  angry.  “What  do  you  care  what  I  do,  Brooks?  Does  everyone
have  to  want  you?  Is  that  what  you  need—for  every  single  person
around you to want to…” He swallowed, not able to say “have sex”
out loud without getting madder.

“No.” Brooks pushed off the wall. He uncrossed his arms, fisting

his hands at his sides. “I don’t expect everyone to want to hook up
with me, but if I’m on a date with a guy…” He ran a frustrated hand
through his cropped brown hair. “Y’know what? Forget it. What you
do is your own business.”

Matt wanted to say something. Probably not that he was sorry, but

maybe that he hadn’t meant to hurt Brooks’s feelings. But Brooks was
already  pushing  out  the  bathroom  doors.  Matt  followed,  thinking
they’d  go  back  to  wandering  around  the  museum.  But  Brooks
marched  through  the  space,  hardly  stopping  to  look  at  the  posters.
Without  a  word,  Brooks  headed  to  the  exit  and  pushed  out  onto  the
cool evening street.

Matt followed him to his car. It was a silver hatchback—not

technically anything special, except for the leather seats, sunroof, and
high-end stereo.

When Brooks clicked open the lock, Matt muttered, “You said it

wasn’t a date.”

Daisy Harris

Brooks paused with his hand on the door. He narrowed his eyes,

his expression almost a scowl. “Yeah? Well, I lied.” Brooks wrenched
open his door and dropped into his seat.

Not seeing that he had any other choice, Matt opened his door and

fell into the seat next to Brooks. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings
or  something.”  He  pulled  the  door  closed,  shutting  them  in  the  tiny
car  together  where  they  were  way  too  close.  He  watched  out  the
window as Brooks backed out.

Matt wished things were different. That he wasn’t such a complete

and total pervert. That he had some kind of self-control.

In the midst of his self-chastisement, his stomach grumbled and

Matt realized how much he’d been looking forward to getting a snack
in Montpelier. He guessed that wasn’t going to happen now that
Brooks was so upset. Made sense that he should go hungry, after how
he’d acted. “Seriously—”

“Why don’t you want to hook up with me?” Brooks asked

abruptly. “I mean, it’s out in the open now. So why don’t you just tell
me?” His jaw was set in a hard line, and he glared at the road.

“It’s not you.”
Brooks rolled his eyes.
“No, seriously. I just…” Matt couldn’t believe he was going to

say  this  to  Brooks  Price,  so  he  rushed  his  words.  “I  don’t  believe  in
having sex unless you’re together with someone. Maybe not married,
but  at  least  dating.”  He’d  been  raised  to  think  sex  only  belonged  in
marriage, but he wasn’t sure whether he still thought he’d have to be
legally bound to a man before they made love. However, he knew one
thing for certain. “I don’t believe in casual hookups.”

Brooks didn’t scoff, but Matt could tell he wanted to. So Matt

added, “Say what you want, but that’s what I think.” He crossed his
arms. Matt would have crossed his legs, too, if he’d had enough
legroom.

“Okay.”

Player and the Prude

Matt snapped his gaze around, trying to figure out what Brooks

was thinking. For once, his handsome face didn’t betray anything.
“Okay?”

“Yeah.” The set of Brooks’s shoulders said that he was still angry,

but his voice was less brittle. “If that’s the excuse you want to give
yourself.”

Matt’s mouth fell open in outrage. “It’s not an excuse.”
Brooks glanced his direction, taking his eyes off the road for a

split second before returning his attention to the street. “Have you
ever kissed a guy? Or rubbed off with one? Y’know, you don’t have
to have actual sex to get off.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Matt knew all this. Gabe was always on his

case  about  dabbling  in  sexual  activities.  And  Matt  had  opened  his
mind  a  lot  since  he  got  to  school.  More  than  anyone  who  hadn’t
grown up like he had could understand. For Pete’s sake—he watched
porn  with  his  housemates  sometimes.  He  had  blatant,  direct
conversations about sex with people. He’d just been to an exhibit of
erotic art. Back in his hometown, saying the word erotic out loud was
enough for folks to brand you a pervert, even to lose your job.

“So, have you kissed a guy?” Brooks peeked over again. This time

he seemed less angry, and more interested.

Matt folded his arms more tightly. Brooks’s car was way too

small to get the kind of distance Matt needed. Not only was Brooks so
close they were almost touching, but Matt could smell the guy. His
pheromones were all over the car. The upholstery smelled like grass
and sweat and a hint of rugged soap. And of course, as soon as Matt
registered the smell, his dick got hard all over again. “No,” he bit out.
“I never saw the point in kissing since I knew I wasn’t going to want
to go any further.”

“Huh.” Brooks slowed the car, looking at street signs.
“Where are you going?” Matt knew the direction to the highway

and wasn’t sure why Brooks was veering off course.

Daisy Harris

“I was thinking we could get something to eat.” After a few turns

of the steering wheel, he pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall.
There was no one around, and Brooks didn’t make a move to open the
door right away. Instead he blinked at Matt, his eyes blue and his
expression unreadable.

“I thought the date was over.” Matt twisted so he could look at

Brooks head-on. Whatever Brooks was going to argue, Matt wasn’t
going to back down on his beliefs.

“Can I kiss you?” Brooks asked.
Matt thought about it for a second. “Are you saying we’ll get food

if we kiss, but we’ll head back to school if I say no?” He raised his
eyebrows and uncrossed his arms, trying to sound strong and
masculine and not like a blushing virgin trying to protect her honor.

“No,” Brooks said calmly. “I’m asking if I can kiss you before we

get a bite to eat. If you say no, we’ll just grab dinner.” He waited—
not angry, or pushing, or even teasing, but like a poker player who’d
just set down a card and was asking for the dealer to give him another.

“I guess so.” Matt couldn’t think of a reason to say no, since

kissing didn’t violate any of his personal rules. He didn’t see the harm
in giving in to one moment of curiosity. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

He didn’t know if kissing would make Brooks his boyfriend, or if

it meant that Brooks wanted a relationship, or what. But he tried not
to think about it as Brooks leaned forward.

“Cool.” Brooks neared slowly, as if he were waiting for Matt to

close the gap. When Matt didn’t, Brooks eased forward more, until
Matt could feel the warmth of Brooks’s breath, smell his toothpaste or
mouthwash or maybe the gum he’d been chewing earlier. Matt’s
eyelids dropped to closed.

Brooks’s lips were soft and surprisingly cool. Brooks didn’t kiss

him at first, but let Matt get used to the feeling. And then Brooks
moved his mouth, a subtle brush of skin and wetness.

Matt forced himself to remain still. He didn’t kiss back, not even

when Brooks stroked his tongue over the seam of Matt’s lips. But that

Player and the Prude

slick caress wrung a moan from Matt’s chest—a sad, almost plaintive
sound that made Matt wonder if he wanted more of the kiss or less.

Brooks pulled away, but Matt didn’t open his eyes for a long

moment, not until he sensed that Brooks was far enough away that
Matt wouldn’t drag him back for another.

“Okay?” Brooks asked.
Matt swallowed, making sure his heart was still beating and

gauging whether he could talk without making a high-pitched squeak.
He forced a calm he didn’t feel and said, “Yeah. That was fine.”

“Cool.” Brooks gave him a naughty little smile. Then, before Matt

could get any more uncomfortable, he opened the door and stepped
out of the car.

His dick pounded with a dull ache, but Matt opened the door and

climbed into the parking lot. The sun was setting and cast a reddish-
purple haze over the sky, and the smell of hamburgers pickled the air.

Brooks sauntered across the parking lot, a strut in his step, his

jeans so tight they ought to be illegal. He grinned at Matt over his
shoulder and Matt knew Brooks had won some kind of point between
them.

“You coming?” Brooks called.
Almost. Matt jogged to catch up, ignoring the pinch of denim

against his erection. If this was what dating was like, Matt was going
to spend a lot of time with a very chafed cock.

* * * *

Brooks kissed Matt once more that night, in front of Matt’s house

when he dropped him off. And just like the first time, Matt didn’t kiss
him back. That was okay, because Brooks knew he was chipping
away at Matt’s defenses.

Though things hadn’t gone as far as he wanted, Brooks had kind

of gotten off on kissing Matt—especially since the guy had walked
around with a boner for a half hour after their first smooch in the car.

Daisy Harris

Brooks couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that effect on a guy.
Sure, he could chalk it up to Matt’s being a virgin, but Brooks didn’t
think it was just that. He had a feeling Matt liked him more than he let
on. Maybe even a lot more. The thought tickled Brooks’s ego and led
to a series of hot fantasies involving slowly deflowering Matt’s virgin
ass.

The senior lot was full when Brooks drove by, so he backed out of

the crowded space and curved around campus to check whether there
was room in the lot behind the athletic center. He pulled in next to
Hunter’s BMW and turned off the engine. Then, knowing he was
going to get harassed by his friend when he walked by his apartment,
Brooks brainstormed what he was going to say and how he was going
to spin his date.

Brooks lingered at the base of the stairs, thinking.
He hadn’t nailed Matt, and he wasn’t going to lie to Hunter and

say he had. He’d kissed Matt, but he wasn’t going to tell Hunter that,
either. Hunter would just laugh, and Brooks wasn’t in the mood to lay
out Matt’s whole hairy religious deal as an explanation. No—Brooks
would just keep his mouth shut and his eye on the end game.

“Hey, Price! What are you doing? Flogging your log?” Hunter

called to him from the porch outside both their apartments on the
fourth floor.

“Why, you wanna help, asshole?”
“Fucker.” Hunter raised the shot glass he was holding in Brooks’s

direction, as if he were giving Brooks a toast. Then Hunter downed it
in one gulp. “You gonna have a drink with me and Stan?”

“Yeah, sure.” Brooks didn’t really want to. He had to work on a

paper for his Public Policy class and had Regulation and Antitrust at
9:00 a.m. But he remembered that his mom was expecting him to talk
Hunter into visiting their house in the Hamptons over the summer.

Brooks lifted his chin, preparing for a whole different type of

game than the one he’d been playing with Matt. A game where the
stakes were higher and the players more powerful. Also, a game that

Daisy Harris

Chapter Four

“You really kissed him?” Gabe asked. He’d taken an unhealthy

level of interest in Matt and Brooks’s date, as far as Matt was
concerned. But that was typical for his roommate. Gabe always
thought he knew best.

“Yeah.” Matt washed his glass and then set it on the drying rack.

He pulled a dish towel out of the drawer. He knew he was blushing,
but at least he’d gotten to the point where he could think about Brooks
without getting wood. “Well, he kissed me.”

“How was it?” Gabe hopped up onto the counter, watching Matt

work. Gabe had been the one to cook dinner the night before, and
Matt had been too stunned from Brooks’s kiss to deal with dish duty
before morning.

“Did you like it when he kissed you?” Matt snapped. He didn’t

know why he was getting annoyed at Gabe. Maybe because he hated
feeling at a disadvantage, and Gabe’s sexual experience always made
Matt feel like a teenager. Of course, Matt was only twenty, so
teenager hadn’t been all that long ago.

Gabe folded one leg under the other. “I don’t think me and Brooks

ever kissed.” He pinched his chin, thinking. “Nope. Pretty sure we
never did that.”

Matt winced. “That’s disgusting.”
“What’s disgusting?” Gabe’s boyfriend, Nick, came wandering

out of the bedroom hallway. Nick was shirtless and scrubbing at his
reddish hair. He wasn’t really Matt’s type, but Matt was getting hard
at random lately, so he turned away before he could focus too much
on Nick’s body.

Player and the Prude

“It’s gross to hook up with someone you won’t even kiss.” Matt

decided  to  leave  Brooks’s  name  out  of  the  conversation,  since  Nick
tended to get angry any time he saw or heard about Brooks. Gabe and
Brooks  had  been  fooling  around  right  before  Gabe  and  Nick  got
together.  Nick  had  never  quite  forgiven  Brooks  for  having  his
boyfriend before he did.

“I dunno.” Nick picked up a cup Matt had just finished drying. He

opened a box of cereal, sprinkling the counter with bits of sugar. “I
s’pose it depends on what you mean by ‘hooked up.’”

Matt glared at him, and not just because Nick was always making

a  mess  in  the  kitchen.  Nick  and  Gabe’s  easy  domesticity  bothered
him. It wasn’t just that he was jealous of his housemates. Matt felt bad
about  himself  whenever  he  was  around  them.  Like  they  were  the
picture-perfect gay couple who’d no doubt be adopting a dog from the
pound  any  day  soon.  Matt  heard  their  laughter  and  happy  whispers
through the door at night. He knew neither one of them ever harbored
the  type  of  dark  thoughts  he  did.  Or  had  been  wracked  by  sick
obsessions.

Matt swiped the counter, cleaning up Nick’s mess. “You think it’s

okay to get off with someone you’re not even interested in?” At least
there were some ways Matt could claim moral superiority.

Nick’s eyes went wide. “Dude, I’m just saying that if a couple

guys are just jerking off together or something, it doesn’t have to be
romantic.” He slumped back over to his boyfriend, as if sensing all
the frustration boiling under Matt’s skin and wanting to escape before
Matt blew.

Gabe didn’t seem to notice Matt’s annoyance, though. Either that,

or it didn’t bother him. He smiled benignly at Nick. “Says the straight
boy.”

“Oh, shut up.” Nick wrapped his arms around Gabe, kissing the

side of his head. Sweet and innocent, and completely unlike anything
Matt could imagine having with any man.

Daisy Harris

Nick turned to Matt. “I just mean that different people have

different definitions of what counts as ‘sex.’”

“I guess.” Matt finished drying the last of the dishes and set the

rest on the counter. He thought about Brooks’s kiss—the way his lips
felt, and how close his body had been. His excitement bordered on
panic. “I think I should give the TA from my Sight and Sound
workshop a call.”

“Oh, stop it.” Gabe hopped off the counter and sidled up next to

Matt. He swatted Matt’s arm like an older brother.

“Stop what?” Matt rotated away from the sink and fit himself into

the corner between the refrigerator and the shelves. He crossed his
arms.

“Stop coming up with excuses not to date Brooks.”
Nick’s face became thunderous. His pale skin turned red. “You’re

talking about Brooks? Brooks Price?”

Gabe put a hand on Nick’s chest. “Yes, we are. And don’t

discourage Matt. Brooks’s a great starter boyfriend.”

Matt threw the down the towel he was holding. “I don’t want a

starter  boyfriend.  I  want  a  real  boyfriend.”  He  was  sick  of  being  on
the  outside  looking  in—watching  his  perfect  roommate  get  a  perfect
boyfriend.  Matt  wanted  a  guy  to  love,  and  hang  out  with,  and—for
Pete’s sake—have sex with.

Sure, maybe with Brooks he’d be the monster he imagined in his

fantasies. But Brooks brought out the worst in Matt. His attraction to
Brooks bordered on violent.

But the guy from his Sight and Sound workshop didn’t make Matt

think anything horrible. Neil was good looking, in a bland and non-
descript way. Matt could talk to Neil without getting flustered. Heck,
he could talk to Neil without even getting hard.

Maybe with Neil, Matt could have what Nick and Gabe had—a

nice, easy relationship.

And he wanted a relationship. Now that he’d started thinking

about it, Matt couldn’t get the idea of dating out of his head. If he

Player and the Prude

found a real boyfriend, he could stop being a virgin. He could stop
obsessing over Brooks. He could get on with his life.

“Well, maybe Brooks could be a real boyfriend.” Gabe didn’t look

like he believed it.

“I’m gonna give the guy from class a call.” Matt pushed past Gabe

and a smirking Nick and went to his room. He grabbed his cell phone
with one hand, and his dick with the other, and wondered if he could
make it through a phone call before jerking off for the second time
that morning.

* * * *

“What do you mean, he’s on a date?” Brooks stood at the door to

Matt’s house. Furtively, he tossed the single rose he’d been carrying
into the bushes. “It’s Saturday morning, for fuck’s sake.”

“He went for coffee with a guy from one of his classes.” Gabe

leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed and his expression so
amused Brooks wanted to shove him. “Should I tell him you stopped
by?”

Brooks narrowed his eyes. “How about you tell me where they

went?” He leaned on his heels, making sure to soften his aggression.
After  all,  he’d  never  get  anywhere  with  Matt  if  Matt’s  housemate
thought  he  was  a  dick.  And  Gabe  had  already  helped  him  out  once.
Brooks  didn’t  know  how  much  more  he  could  impose  on  Gabe’s
generosity.

“Huh. Do I sense the wicked Brooks Price getting tamed?” Gabe

raised his eyebrows and smirked, his expression painfully smug.

“Oh, shut it, Ashton.” Brooks stepped away from the door. He

hated asking for help. And he was not getting tamed. “Don’t tell me if
you don’t want to.”

“They went to the bookstore café, you big baby.” Gabe snickered.

“But if you go chasing after him, I expect you to be nice to him.”
Gabe eased farther into his house. “And don’t tell Matt I told you

Daisy Harris

where he was, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” Gabe shut the door,
leaving Brooks out on the ratty porch.

He glanced at the moldy couch and locked-up bicycles and

wondered  whether  it  would  make  him  a  stalker  to  go  crash  Matt’s
date.  Brooks  wasn’t  dressed  for  it.  He  was  wearing  shorts  and
sneakers,  having  planned  to  go  for  a  run  after  he  stopped  by  Matt’s
house. But he figured he could spin the day so that he both jogged and
showed up where Matt was without looking desperate.

Bouncing to warm up, Brooks jogged toward campus, then broke

into a faster run. He took the long way around the dorms, getting his
blood pumping and feeling the satisfying slap of pavement under his
feet. Most of the guys on lacrosse ran together in the afternoons, but
Brooks had always liked to go out on his own in the mornings instead.
It saved him from getting mocked by Hunter the whole time. God, the
guy was getting on his nerves.

Brooks veered toward the playfields, and when he got to the

bleachers, he did a few quick sets of stairs. In the process, he dragged
off his sweatshirt. He knew he’d be sweaty and red faced by the time
he got to the bookstore, but that would only help with his plan. All
guys looked better with a little sheen.

After ten minutes of hard running, Brooks sprinted to the

bookstore. Breathing heavy, he grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and took
his place in line behind a couple of sleepy graduate students. He tried
to be subtle as he scanned for Matt and his date, and for a second,
Brooks worried he’d missed Matt altogether. But then the line moved
and a few people got out of the way.

Across the room, he spotted Matt. Their eyes met, and in that

second, Brooks knew everything he needed to know about whether
Matt liked him.

Matt’s mouth opened. He licked his lips. His Adam’s apple

bobbed on a swallow. He turned away, blushing.

And fuck if it wasn’t the sexiest thing Brooks had seen in his life.

Player and the Prude

“Excuse me?” The barista called for Brooks’s attention. “D’you

want to order something?” The girl gave him a smile like a grimace.
She had black hair with purple at the tips and looked like the type of
person to not want to wake up before noon on the weekends.

“Uh…I want…” Brooks tried to remember what he normally got

for coffee, but his mouth was dry. Had Matt always been that
attractive? Brooks felt like he’d been smacked upside the head by
Matt’s sexiness, and he was reeling, almost dizzy from the realization.

“Oh, I didn’t see your drink. Will that be all?” She pointed at the

bottle in Brooks’s hand.

He looked at it, blinking. “Oh, yeah. This’ll be all.” Brooks

reached into the little pocket in his running shorts and pulled out a
couple dollars. He handed them to the girl. “Thanks.”

She nodded tiredly and made change. When he dropped the coins

in the tip jar, she gave him what looked like her best attempt at a
smile. “Have a good day.”

Brooks turned his attention back to Matt’s table, but seeing how

Matt was trying to ignore him, he opted to go to the counter first. He
leafed  through  some  of  the  papers  on  the  bar,  pretending  some
bullshit article drew his  attention. And when he  felt, more than saw,
Matt  dart  a  glance  his  direction,  he  unscrewed  the  cap  off  his
Gatorade  bottle  and  made  a  big  pornographic  show  out  of  tilting  his
head back and drinking half the bottle in long swallows.

Yeah, he was starting to understand how sexy Matt was, but that

didn’t mean Brooks didn’t still need to work his charm.

When he glanced back over at the table, Matt was doing his best

to ignore Brooks. He stared resolutely at his coffee date, his fingers
rotating his coffee cup. He glanced in Brooks’s direction again before
fastening his gaze on the guy across the table.

Brooks took another long swig, using the bottom of his shirt to

wipe off his mouth so he could flash Matt his abs. Then, feeling like
he laid down all the groundwork he needed, Brooks headed to Matt’s

Daisy Harris

table. “Hey.” Brooks recognized the guy Matt was sitting with—he
was a TA for one of the film classes.

The guy was all wrong for Matt. First off, he was known around

parties  as  a  consummate  top,  and  Brooks  didn’t  think  it  was  healthy
for  Matt  to  start  out  with  someone  who  couldn’t  be  flexible  in  bed.
Not like  Brooks  bottomed often—actually, he hadn’t bottomed since
those  couple  times  in  high  school—but  he  could  be  versatile  for  the
right guy.

Second, the TA guy was always falling madly in love with

boyfriends, then breaking up with them a week later. Matt didn’t need
that kind of drama.

“Um, hi, Brooks.” Matt darted his gaze up before returning his

attention to his coffee. The nervousness was damned funny on a guy
Matt’s height.

“Price.” Matt’s coffee date glared at Brooks from behind his

hipster glasses. Oh, yeah, the guy was totally trying to get into Matt’s
innocent pants. Brooks could see it written all over the guy’s face.

“You guys know each other?” Matt looked at his date, then at

Brooks. His forehead creased in the middle, and it was clear that he
was wondering if they’d slept together.

“Not really,” Brooks said. It was true—he knew the guy by sight

but not by name. “You are?”

The TA made a face like a sneer. “Neil. We were in Econ together

my senior year.”

Matt huffed out a breath like a laugh. His eyes crinkled around the

corners, but he hid his amusement behind his cup of coffee.

“Oh, yeah,” Brooks said. Now he remembered how Neil had slept

with a couple guys from Brooks’s freshman class. Neil wore his kinky
hair shorn almost to bald and his pants too tight and always played the
“sensitive” card. He had this deep, rich voice that always made guys
swoon and everyone think he was smarter than he was. Brooks hated
him on principle.

Brooks turned to Matt. “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Player and the Prude

“Uh, okay.” Matt’s pupils dilated as if he were a deer caught in

headlights. He pushed his chair away from the table much more
quietly than Brooks would have expected, given his size. “Can you
hold on a sec?” he asked Neil.

Neil shrugged and turned back to his coffee. He leaned farther

back in his seat, his eyes darting around the café as if he already knew
his date was over. “Sure, man. Whatever.”

Brooks took a step behind Matt to herd him away from the table,

wanting to block Matt from Neil’s line of sight. It wasn’t easy,
considering Matt had several inches of height on him.

“What do you want?” Matt murmured when they were out of

earshot. He met Brooks’s eyes for a moment, got that panicked
expression again, and then looked away.

“I wanna know why you’re on a date with someone who isn’t

me,” Brooks whispered. Sure, it wasn’t his place to tell Matt what he
could and couldn’t do, but Matt didn’t know that. Maybe in Matt’s
small-town brain, kissing Brooks had made them exclusive. If that
were the case, Brooks was going to work it to his advantage.

“I wasn’t under the impression you thought we were dating.” Matt

stood to his full, impressive height, his face blank.

Brooks considered his next step. Too pushy and he’d come off

insincere, too laid-back and he’d lose his chance with Matt. Sensitive-
guy TA would have Matt’s jeans around his ankles in no time, telling
him he “cared” about him and all that bullshit. Then Matt would be
crushed when he found out all the other guys Neil had been in love
with.

So Brooks went with the answer that came the most easily. “Well,

I sorta hoped we’d hang out again. Y’know…together. Does that
count?”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “I guess.” He frowned, crossing his arms.

He didn’t look angry, though. More like he was trying to rein himself
in. “You’re saying you really wanna go out with me? Like, as a
boyfriend?”

Daisy Harris

“Yeah,” Brooks answered before he could think. But he didn’t

want to take it back. He liked Matt. A lot, if he stopped to think about
it. Maybe it was just that Matt was a challenge, but he was different
from any of the other guys Brooks new. That let Brooks be different,
too. It was nice to hang out with someone he didn’t have to one-up all
the time.

“Even if I won’t have sex with you?”
Well, that part was up for debate as far as Brooks was concerned.

Still, he reached out and took Matt’s hand, trying to solidify the deal.
Over Matt’s shoulder he saw Neil scowling, but that only made
Brooks grin. “I wanna go out with you, okay?”

Matt peeked over his shoulder at Neil, but when he turned back to

Brooks, the corners of his eyes were crinkling in a nervous almost-
smile. “This is a terrible idea.”

Brooks shot him a lusty wink. “The fun stuff usually is.”

Player and the Prude

Chapter Five

“So, are you a top or a bottom?” Brooks asked.
Matt choked on his soda, and it fizzed up his nose. He pounded

his fist to his sternum. “Dude!”

“What?” Brooks shrugged nonchalantly and then took a bite of his

pizza. He didn’t seem to care that they were in the cafeteria and
surrounded by the lunch crowd. Of course, no one was sitting at their
table, but still. Someone could be reading lips.

“Isn’t that kind of personal?” Matt whispered.
“I dunno.” Brooks sipped his soda, apparently not worried about

Matt’s coughing fit or any of the people sitting nearby. “It seems like
a pretty important thing for two guys to work out at the beginning of a
relationship.”

The word relationship still sounded weird coming out of Brooks’s

mouth.  They’d  been  hanging  out  together  for  a  couple  weeks,
watching  movies  or  studying  together  when  their  schedules  allowed.
Matt  guessed  they  were  dating,  though  they  always  hung  out  in
groups  or  in  public  and  never  did  anything  more  than  kiss.  “Huh.  I
guess.” He felt odd just coming out with his preferences. His fantasies
were  harsh,  aggressive,  often  violent.  They  made  him  question
whether he was  even a good person. He wasn’t sure whether he was
ready to share them with someone else.

And wasn’t that what it meant to tell a guy if he was a top or a

bottom? Wasn’t that the same as describing what he thought about
when he jerked off? No way was Matt going to tell Brooks about that.
“What about you?”

Daisy Harris

Brooks’s mouth was full, so he took another sip of soda and

swallowed his bite. “Top, mostly.”

Matt flinched. So that was it—Brooks wanted to penetrate him. It

was  only  then  that  he  realized  he’d  sort  of  been  thinking  things
between them would work the other way around. But he didn’t want
to  break  up  with  Brooks,  especially  over  something  he  wasn’t  sure
about.  Especially  when  he  knew  he’d  have  to  keep  what  he  really
wanted so fully under wraps. So he just said, “Oh.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” Brooks winked at him over the top

of his soda. He set his cup on his tray and kicked his leg around the
bench, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “You done?” Brooks
looked at Matt’s tray—which held a half-eaten hamburger.

“Yeah, m’not hungry.” Matt crumpled up his napkin and tossed it

on top of his food. His stomach felt tied in knots, and his emotions
reorganized themselves in his head—Brooks was a top.

He topped.
That meant Matt would be expected to bottom.
Matt thought he might throw up.
“Hey.” Brooks carried his tray around to Matt’s side of the table

and sat down on the bench next to him. “I’m not rigid about it or
anything.” He butted Matt in the arm. “Maybe you’ll be the man to
change my mind.”

A lump coalesced in the middle of Matt’s chest. He wondered if it

would be better if he were on the penetrating end of the scenario, even
if he couldn’t do everything else he wanted. A small voice in his head
said  that  it  would  be.  But  Matt’s  mind  rebelled  at  the  thought  of
having  to  perform,  especially  since  Brooks  had  such  a  long  list  of
lovers to compare him to.

Plus, Matt would be competing with Brooks’s own sexual

prowess, which was no doubt immense. Maybe it would be better if
Brooks was the one in charge.

“Dude, c’mon. Sorry I freaked you out.” Brooks took the tray out

of Matt’s hands and bussed it over to the garbage. He threw out their

Player and the Prude

cups and set their trays on top of the trash cans. Then he jogged back,
smiling, and held out a hand. “Seriously. Let’s go.”

“Okay.” He didn’t take the hand Brooks offered. And, feeling like

it would be an admission of his submissive status if he followed, Matt
led the way up the stairs and out of the cafeteria.

It was sunny and warm outside, the Vermont sky wide open and

the campus full of pale green leaves. Brooks turned to him and
smiled, making Matt feet marginally better. Brooks was so sweet and
handsome, Matt should be happy to do anything with him. Even
touching him was a thrill.

“You heading to class?” Brooks asked. He plunged his hands in

his pockets as if he were cold.

Matt wondered why Brooks hadn’t brought a sweatshirt, and

made  a  mental  note  to  remind  him  to  pick  one  up  if  they  went  by
Brooks’s  house.  “Nope.  I’ve  gotta  swing  home  for  some  notes  I
forgot.  I’ll  probably  study  there  for  a  while.  You  can  come  if  you
want.”

“Cool.” Brooks kept pace down the pathway connecting the

cafeteria with the immense grassy lawns in front of the library. And
when they got to the main promenade through campus, it seemed like
Brooks couldn’t keep his hands to himself any longer, because he
tugged his fists out of his pockets and made a grab for Matt’s hand.

“Hey.” Matt stared at their joined fists, not pulling away, but not

sure if he was comfortable with public displays of affection.

But Brooks ignored Matt’s protest, swinging their arms in time as

he walked. “What time do you have to be back on campus?”

“My roommates are going to be home.” He hoped it sounded like

a warning, and not like he was nervous about them being alone
together.

“No worries. I was just asking, because I have to pick up some

liquor for a party later and wanted to know if it made sense to drive to
your place.”

Daisy Harris

“Oh.” Matt tried to come up with something nefarious in Brooks’s

explanation. Finding nothing to argue over, he decided to tell the
truth. “I’ve got to be back by four.”

“Cool,” Brooks said again. Then, when Matt let down his guard,

Brooks leaned over and kissed his cheek. It was warm and soft, and
even though it only lasted a second, Matt felt the imprint of Brooks’s
body long after they were again only touching at the hands.

His face heated, and Matt lifted his chin so Brooks wouldn’t see.

Sometimes being tall had its advantages.

When they crossed the street separating campus from the town

beyond, Brooks let go of Matt’s hand. Matt wasn’t offended. There
was an unspoken understanding among most gay kids at Holsum that,
while the campus was extremely tolerant and gay friendly, Middleton
beyond was less so.

They crossed the few blocks to Matt’s house, with Brooks

pattering  on  about  classes  and  parties  and  Matt’s  penis  slowly
expanding  until  it  was  so  full  it  hurt  to  walk.  Matt  couldn’t  believe
how  he  could  be  terrified  and  turned  on  at  the  same  time.  But,  if
anything, Brooks’s questions earlier about their sexual roles had only
made  Matt  more  aroused.  He  could  barely  hear  Brooks  talking  over
the pounding in his ears.

“Here we are.” Brooks stated the obvious as they slowed in front

of Matt’s house.

“Yup.” Matt came to a stop at the foot of the stairs. He was

tempted to tell Brooks to go home, that he wasn’t ready to spend time
together anywhere private, but Brooks chose that moment to give him
a blindingly bright smile.

“We going inside?” He tilted his head playfully, as if he knew

perfectly well Matt was stalling.

“Uh, sure.” Matt jogged up the stairs. He wrenched the handle,

hoping the door would be open and Nick, Gabe, or Matt’s other
housemate, Sarah, would be home. But the lock held, barring his
entry.

Player and the Prude

“Guess they’re not home after all.” With a forced chuckle, Matt

dug his key out of his pocket. He felt Brooks’s heat at his back, then
Brooks’s breath on his neck right before he pushed the door open.

“You gonna let me in?” Brooks murmured suggestively.
Matt let out a breath. By the time he’d stepped over the threshold,

Brooks’s  hand  fell  on  his  waist.  And  Brooks  must  have  kicked  the
door shut with his foot, because Brooks’s touch never left his body as
he  urged  Matt  across  the  room  and  to  the  couch.  Matt  spun  around
and  sat,  and  Brooks  fell  onto  the  cushions  next  to  him—touching
Matt’s shoulders, and his face, pulling him into a kiss.

Matt forced himself to take it without pushing back. He opened

his mouth, feeling Brooks’s tongue exploring. Brooks pumped gently,
his tongue salty and warm and tasting like pizza and man. He never
touched Matt lower, just wove his fingers behind Matt’s neck to tilt
Matt’s head to a different angle. When Brooks pulled away, moaning
a little in the back of his throat, Matt arched his back, lifting his hips
off the couch.

He forced himself back to sitting, though he desperately wanted to

press a hand onto his errant cock.

“You okay?” Brooks asked. His breaths were short and sharp, his

eyes searching.

Matt realized Brooks would stop if he asked. But—God help

him—he didn’t want him to stop. “I’m…” He wondered how to
explain things. Matt thought he might explode if he didn’t climax, but
he wasn’t ready for sex. Wasn’t ready for a lot of things. And he
didn’t want to be rude again by taking matters into his own hand.

“Can I touch you?” The downward dart of Brooks’s eyes made it

obvious where he was talking about touching.

Matt’s hips bucked off the couch, as if answering Brooks’s

question. “I…”

“Just over the pants. You don’t even have to take it out.”
Matt pressed his eyes closed. Yeah, he could handle that much.

And he wanted it so badly. “Yeah, sure…”

Daisy Harris

Brooks launched at Matt again, sealing their mouths in a kiss. He

snaked a hand down Matt’s front, down the indent of his chest, and
over his belly. Matt sucked in his stomach at the feel of it, but then
Brooks’s palm folded over Matt’s cock and squeezed.

“Oh…” Matt moaned into Brooks’s mouth. He couldn’t stop

grinding up into Brooks’s hand, writhing and pumping. Matt fisted
the seat cushions, trying not to get too aggressive or jump on top of
the guy. Brooks was smaller than him, and Matt could hurt him if he
rubbed him too hard. And Matt wanted to hurt him—push him down
and make Brooks beg. And the thought scared him so much he almost
pushed Brooks away.

“Wow, you are seriously packin’ under there, aren’t you?” Brooks

smiled against Matt’s mouth. He was cool as a cucumber, and besides
a few appreciative moans, he seemed oblivious to Matt’s struggle.

Before he could find words to answer, Matt felt that heavy twist

low  in  his  body.  He  groaned,  feeling  the  pulse  of  his  cock  and  his
warm wetness coating him within the confines of his jeans. For a split
second,  it  was  like  he’d  reached  heaven,  and  all  he  could  feel  was
Brooks’s  weight  against  him,  and  Brooks’s  eager  fingers.  But  then,
hot on the heels of his orgasm, came a creeping, sickening shame.

He could hear his mother’s voice in his mind, telling him he was

sick and perverted, his father’s voice telling him he was disgusting
and going to hell. He imagined they—and everyone in his
congregation back home—knew every sick and sordid thing he’d ever
thought about. They already considered him an abomination for being
gay. He couldn’t imagine what they’d think if they knew the truth.

He shivered, wetness cooling in his underwear, and tears filling

his eyes. Matt sniffled, trying to suck the wetness back inside before
Brooks could see. With a wipe of his hand across his face, he bounded
off  the  couch.  “I  gotta  go  change.”  He  rushed  down  the  hall  to  his
bedroom  and shut the door behind  him. His  emotions batted around,
too  sharp  and  painful  to  name,  but  making  him  want  to  punch  the
wall.

Player and the Prude

Matt blew out breath after breath, trying to get control of his body,

his mind. When he’d settled enough for coherent thought, he fell onto
his knees. And though he hadn’t prayed in years, he asked God only
one favor. That by the time he left his room again, Brooks would be
gone.

* * * *

Brooks shifted into a more comfortable position, frowning into the

hallway where Matt had just disappeared. He wondered what the fuck
had just happened. On the one hand, it flattered him no end that Matt
had come before Brooks even pulled out his dick. On the other hand,
the guy seemed pretty upset about it.

“Hey,” Brooks called down the hallway. Then he got up and

approached Matt’s door. He didn’t knock, just called through the
plywood. “I’m not mad or anything. That was cute. I’m mean, you’re
cute.” He cleared his throat to correct himself. “I mean hot.” When
Matt didn’t answer, he added, “Lots of guys come fast the first time.
It’s not like you can’t go again.” He didn’t know if Matt and he were
going to go any further before Matt’s class, but Brooks sort of hoped
so.

After a long moment, Matt answered. “Just go, okay?”
“What?” Brooks made a face at Matt’s door. “I’m trying to make

you feel better, dude.” He wasn’t used to acting compassionate, nor
did he know too many guys who would want him to. This was all new
to Brooks, and he didn’t like being made to feel like he was doing it
wrong. “C’mon. Let me in.”

There was shuffling on the other side of the door. “Go away.”

Matt sounded sad. So defeated that Brooks didn’t even care that Matt
was blowing him off.

“C’mon, man.” Brooks turned the handle and opened the door.
Matt was standing with his back to Brooks, wearing nothing but

white briefs and his T-shirt. A pair of sweatpants dangled from his

Daisy Harris

hand, and Brooks figured Matt had been about to put them on. Matt’s
head was bowed, and his hand on the dresser was fisted like he
wanted to pound the thing to shreds.

“Dude…” Brooks crossed to him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen

someone so  upset. Certainly not  for coming too  fast.  He reached out
and  put  his  hand  on  Matt’s  shoulder.  And  though  it  surprised  him,
Matt didn’t shove him away.

Brooks made his voice as gentle as possible when he asked,

“Wassup?”

Matt’s head fell back, and he stared at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure

you wouldn’t understand.”

Brooks didn’t know why Matt’s statement pissed him off, but it

did. He wasn’t an idiot. Brooks understood a lot more than most
people gave him credit for. “Why don’t you try me?”

“Fine.” Matt shook the pants to the floor and fed his legs quickly

into them. It gave Brooks just enough time to notice that Matt’s legs
were covered in dark blonde hair all the way up to his thighs. It made
Brooks think of how they’d look if Matt ever railed into someone. It
would be fucking hot, though he knew right then wasn’t the time to
mention it.

“I feel horrible, okay?”
“Okay.” Brooks folded his leg under him and settled onto Matt’s

bed. He thought it was a testament to how hard he was trying in this
relationship that he hardly noticed how stiff he still was. “What do
you feel horrible about?”

Matt shrugged.
“About coming? Or coming with a man? Or because we just

started going out?” Brooks laid out all the options he could think of.
But  then  another  occurred  to  him.  “Maybe  you  wished  it  was  with
someone  else?”  Fuck,  Brooks  hated  asking.  He  really  hated  asking.
He hadn’t realized until then how glad he’d been to be Matt’s first.

“No.” Matt shook his head, bending to sit on the bed, though he

kept a few feet of distance between them. He ran a hand through his

Player and the Prude

shaggy mess of hair. “You gotta understand—I got a beating if I got
caught touching myself as a kid.” Matt took a shuddering breath. “I
don’t understand how you can be so casual about things.”

Brooks winced. “Are you serious? Your parents were totally

fucked up.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Everyone I knew was like that. You weren’t

supposed to have sex unless you were married.”

“Yeah, but rubbing off isn’t—”
“Well, maybe it wasn’t sex, but it was perversion.”
Brooks couldn’t believe Matt had just said that with a straight

face. “Tell me you don’t believe that.”

“No.” Matt stared at his wall. “No, I don’t believe it anymore.” He

rolled back his shoulders, seeming to gather courage from his
thoughts. “I’m not sure I ever really believed it.”

“Cool.” Brooks shifted around. At least they agreed about some

things. “I don’t mean to state the obvious here, but you know the sex
you have with men is never going to lead to children, right?”

Matt snorted. Though Matt wasn’t smiling, Brooks was pretty sure

he’d meant it as a laugh.

“So, whatever you do is going to be…” Brooks waved his hand,

searching the air for the right way to put it. Just for fun sounded
shallow, but all about connection felt forced. In the end, Brooks
settled for saying sarcastically, “Pleasures of the flesh.”

“Yeah.” Matt chewed his lip, thinking. It didn’t seem that he’d

gotten Brooks’s joke. “Yeah, I know. And I’ve known I was gay for a
while now, so it’s not like I’ve ever really considered having sex the
other way.”

“You mean the vagina way?”
This time when Matt laughed, he smiled. The way his lip curled

was subtle, but that didn’t stop it from being beautiful. “Yeah, that
way.”

Brooks leaned back onto his hands, hoping to distract Matt by

showing off his body. Yeah, it was shallow. But there were worse

Daisy Harris

ways to try to cheer a guy up. “So, what’s the issue?” He watched the
way Matt’s eyes darted around the room, his nervous lip biting. He’d
never wanted to get into other guys’ issues before, but with Matt it
mattered. It was as if he were a puzzle Brooks wanted to solve. Or a
present he couldn’t wait to open.

“I…” Matt rested his face in his hands. He sat like that for a long

moment, so long Brooks was tempted to say something just to break
the silence, but then he let out a long sigh. “Okay, can we try
something?” He looked up at Brooks, wary but resigned. “I mean,
would it be okay if I asked you to let me try something?”

“Sure.” Brooks was up for pretty much anything, having done just

about every sex act he could think of. “Listen—I’m totally cool.” He
hoped Matt understood that he was talking about the whole
top/bottom thing. Brooks felt a little bad about freaking Matt out
when he’d brought it up.

“It’s not that.” Matt inched closer. He ran his gaze up and down

Brooks’s body. Apparently, Brooks’s plan of distraction had worked.
“It’s…” Matt bit the edge of his fingernail. “Could you lay back? And
maybe not move?”

Brooks raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t pegged Matt for a kinkster,

but the idea he might be was fucking hot. “Okay.” He relaxed onto the
bed, wondering what Matt would do next. But Matt looked so focused
and intense that Brooks didn’t dare ask.

Matt followed him down, leaning on his palm, but hovering over.

He never stopped his  calculating glances—as if Brooks were a piece
of meat and Matt was trying to figure out how to slice it. “You don’t
have  to  if  you  don’t  want  to—but,  would  you  just  let  me  kiss  you?
And  not  touch  back?”  Matt’s  eyes  were  dark  and  serious,  yet
completely vulnerable. So much so that Brooks couldn’t possibly say
no.

“Yeah, no problem.” Brooks placed his hands, palm down, on

Matt’s camouflage-colored sheets. He waited, watching Matt’s olive
eyes flicker.

Player and the Prude

“Good.” Matt leaned in closer, a slow, tentative approach.
But for all Matt’s hesitancy, Brooks knew that they were getting

to  the  heart  of  things.  That  he  was  getting  a  peek  inside  Matt’s
wrapped-tight box. Brooks closed his eyes,  waiting. His skin felt too
tight.  His  hips  almost  levitated  off  the  mattress.  He’d  been  tied  up
before and tied other guys up, too, but he’d never felt such a delicious
sense  of  anticipation—maybe  because  when  he’d  been  tied  up  he’d
always  been  with  guys  who  were  smaller  than  him.  If  he’d  really
wanted to, he could have easily broken free.

With Matt, it was different. He was big enough to block the light

from the ceiling lamp. Broad enough to pin Brooks to the mattress.

Matt hovered close, his lips inches away and damp from his

tongue.

Brooks could feel their warmth, smell Matt’s breath. He opened

his mouth, waiting for Matt to finally kiss him back.

Daisy Harris

Chapter Six

Matt took slow, careful nips. Brooks tasted salty, and his stubble

scraped Matt’s chin. But he tilted his head up, letting Matt explore.

Trusting Brooks not to move, not to push him too far and too fast,

Matt nibbled Brooks’s bottom lip, then suckled his top one. He licked
softly into Brooks’s mouth, and he felt more than heard Brooks’s
groan when their tongues met.

It felt like they were kissing for the first time. Or maybe kissing as

they  were  meant  to  for  the  first  time,  because  taking  the  lead  felt  so
very  perfectly  right.  Maybe  if  they  always  did  it  like  this,  Matt
wouldn’t  be  plagued  by  darker  imaginings.  He  could  just  worship
Brooks  with  his  mouth  and  his  hands.  Maybe  even  eventually  his
cock.

And he and Brooks could be like those shining, happy gay couples

Matt always envied. Like Nick and Gabe, or Chris and Peter—
couples he could imagine seeing at church on Sunday, assuming it
was one of those non-denominational, open-minded types of places.

Matt wrapped his hand to Brooks’s back and pulled him up a

fraction, so that Brooks clutched at Matt’s arms on reflex. It was so
darned romantic Matt’s heart skipped a beat.

“Oh, sorry.” Brooks let go, flailing his thick arms awkwardly back

onto the bed.

“No worries.” Matt settled him back down. He’d liked Brooks

grabbing  him,  but  a  little  too  much.  He  needed  to  kiss  him  more,
touch  him  more,  show  Brooks  with  his  body  how  much  he  cared
about  him.  And  if  Brooks  started  touching  him  back,  Matt  didn’t
know what he’d do.

Player and the Prude

Probably, at this point, he’d start holding Brooks down by force.

And he so wasn’t ready to go there. “I’m sorry.” He kissed Brooks
again, only cradling his nape, careful not to wrench him too high or
bite him too hard.

“S’fine.” Brooks breathed between kisses. “You can tie me to the

bed, if you want.” He craned his neck to look at Matt’s headboard.

No. Matt’s mind rebelled. No, no, no. That would be too much. He

fought back a series of images involving Brooks’s wrists and ankles
stretched over his head and fastened to the corners of Matt’s
headboard. Brooks hard and needy, his cock dripping pre-cum while
Matt tortured his ass and balls.

Matt growled as he shook the thought from his head. “No.” Matt

brushed a kiss over his mouth, as gently as he could. “Just…” He
considered his headboard again. It was flat and solid, but had a ridge
of space between the mattress and the wood. Matt was always losing
pens through that crack. “Could you reach up and grab under there?”
He gestured with his eyes at the crevice.

Brooks twisted around to see what he meant. Then he reached

over his head, hooking his fingers under that ridge. Doing so made his
chest look enormous and showed off the muscles in his arms. Brooks
must have known, because he shot Matt a cocky grin. “Look at you,
getting your kink on.”

Matt crushed his mouth into Brooks, stopping him from getting

out another word. It was as if Brooks were trying to get Matt to lose
control, goading him to do his worst. And Matt could in no way put
up with it if Brooks kept talking.

He rolled on top so their bodies pressed flush. Matt felt Brooks’s

cock  jabbing  into  his  thigh,  and  he  pumped  his  own  erection  into
Brooks’s  belly.  Brooks  was  perfect  under  him—the  right  size,  the
right  smell.  Matt  couldn’t  imagine  ever  being  with  anyone  else,  or
even  wanting  to.  And  somehow,  with  Brooks  gripping  the  bed,
squirming,  but  not  grabbing,  it  was  all  all  right.  Matt  could  do  this.

Daisy Harris

Could get Brooks off. He pumped again, feeling Brooks’s answer in
the jut of his hips. And Matt thought maybe it would all be okay.

He wrestled Brooks’s shirt over his head and up to his forearms,

providing another layer of restraint. He feasted his eyes on the
expanse of Brooks’s smooth chest, his ridges of muscle. Brooks was
beautiful, and at that moment, totally his.

“Your shirt, too.” Brooks wiggled as if he were trying to get

Matt’s top off with his hips. He bent to Matt’s shoulder and bit the
collar of his shirt with his teeth.

Matt ripped his shirt over his head and then fell on top again so

their stomachs touched. He was hard all over again, thinking he might
climax  just  from  the  feel  of  Brooks’s  skin  against  his  belly.  Matt
kissed  his  way  down  Brooks’s  neck,  wanting  to  taste  every  part  of
him, feel where he was hairy and where he was smooth. Matt wanted
to  hold  Brooks’s  cock  in  his  hand  and  watch  his  eyes  when  Brooks
came apart.

He ran a hand down Brooks’s belly to fumble with the front of his

jeans. Matt’s only thought was to touch more, and now. But when he
got Brooks’s top button open, he pulled up far enough to see Brooks’s
face. “This is okay, right?”

Brooks’s lips were red and kiss bruised, and his eyes were wide.

He was gorgeous with his arms stretched over his head and his body
thrumming with anticipation. He looked at Matt like he loved him.
“Yeah. If it’s okay with you.”

Matt dove back to Brooks’s mouth, lapping at his tongue, sucking

and  biting  his  thick  bottom  lip.  He  tugged  open  Brooks’s  button  fly
and  fed  his  hand  under  the  elastic  of  his  waistband.  It  was  fast—
probably  faster  than  Matt  should  have  been  going,  but  that  didn’t
matter when Matt felt Brooks’s dick fill his hand.

“Oh, my God.” Brooks arched, pressing his cock through Matt’s

fist. And Matt had to stop kissing long enough to watch him, to see
Brooks’s eyes roll back in his head and his lips quiver. Matt couldn’t

Player and the Prude

resist stroking him again, and again, feeling the dampness collecting
at his tip, listening to Brooks’s pants become moans.

“Can I?” Brooks lifted his head to peer down Matt’s body to

where Matt’s dick bowed the front of his sweatpants.

“I’ll do it.” Matt shoved down his pants and underwear, leaving

them wrapped around his knees. He rolled on top, with enough space
between them to grasp both their cocks in his hand like he’d seen men
do in porn movies.

Brooks made the softest, most desperate sound, and Matt groaned

right  along  with  him.  The  feel  of  them  pressed  together  was
amazing—better  than  Matt  could  have  imagined.  Brooks  shivered
beneath  him,  his  cock  pulsing  in  Matt’s  hand.  Their  caps  clicked
against each other through Matt’s fist, and he worked them just a little
too hard, trying to make it last all the longer. But to Matt’s surprise,
Brooks  bucked  underneath  him,  his  hips  snapping,  and  his  cock
spilling hot cum over their bellies.

Matt let go of their cocks and pumped through the wetness on

Brooks’s stomach. His own orgasm climbed from between his thighs,
gripping him hard and wrenching him open. He held Brooks close, his
body spasming, and filled the space between them with more liquid
warmth.

He rested his head on Brooks’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of

his skin, feeling their muscles twitching together. And for a long and
perfect moment, it felt like they were one person.

“You okay?” Brooks didn’t let go of the bed frame. His voice was

nervous. “Not freaking out again?”

Matt thought about it for a moment. The semen between them was

cooling, and he wanted to get up before it got sticky. But other than a
vague  sense  that  they  should  get  cleaned  up,  he  felt  otherwise  fine.
“Nope.  No  freak  out.”  Matt  pushed  up  and  rolled  to  the  side.  He
looked at Brooks for a long moment, watching his chest rise and fall,
enjoying  the  sight  of  him  still  clutching  the  bed  frame.  Matt  waited

Daisy Harris

until he was sure—completely sure—he could handle Brooks’s touch.
“You can let go now.”

Brooks blinked, as if he’d forgotten he was still immobile. Slowly,

he let go of his grip and lowered his hands. His eyes were uncertain,
and his lips wet and parted. He looked so beautiful, but also like he
had no idea what had just happened.

And Matt wished that he knew. “You okay?” Given his meltdown

earlier, Matt felt a little awkward checking in with Brooks’s well-
being. But it felt like the right thing to do.

“Yeah.” Brooks cleared his throat. Then he flexed his fingers

before tentatively touching Matt’s chest. He tilted his head like he
was trying to figure something out. “That’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” Matt smiled. He stroked Brooks’s face, marveling at his

sharp jaw, and his flashing eyes, and that Brooks was all his. “Yeah, I
think it might be great.”

* * * *

“So, why are you still hanging around with that dork?” Hunter

asked, leaning back in his chair and watching Brooks over the top of
his sunglasses.

Brooks shoveled in another forkful of breakfast, not wanting to

answer. He’d long ago stopped thinking of Matt as a dork, and though
the two of them hadn’t  done anything more than rub off together in
the  month  since  they’d  started  going  out,  Brooks  felt  like  their
relationship was exactly where he wanted it to be.

In some ways, it was more sexually adventurous than anything

else he’d done—since Matt still wasn’t comfortable making out
unless Brooks held mostly still.

Brooks kind of got off on it, too. In some ways, that didn’t

surprise him—he loved attention, and he really liked how excited
Matt got when he was the one calling all the shots.

Player and the Prude

And if Brooks sometimes felt restricted—like he wished he could

push it a little further—he tried to ignore it. Matt was a great guy, and
they had fun together. They had plenty of time for Matt to work on
getting over his issues.

“Tell me you’ve done him already. With the man-hours you’ve

put into it, you could have turned a straight guy by now.” Hunter
studied Brooks with a little too much interest—as if he knew he was
making Brooks uncomfortable and enjoyed seeing him twist in the
wind. “Or can’t you close the deal? Is that why it’s taking so long?”

“The fuck, man? We didn’t set a time limit.” Of course, Brooks

knew the timeline was implied. When he and Hunter normally dared
each other to do something, it was expected that they’d either do it or
chicken out within a day or two.

“So, you haven’t fucked him yet?” Hunter chuckled. “He must be

one tough nut to crack.” Then Hunter held his hand in front of his
lips, snickering like he’d just thought of something brilliant. “Or a
tough crack to nut.”

“Oh, I have,” Brooks lied. He couldn’t think of any other way to

get out of the conversation with any dignity. Brooks knew what
Hunter thought about guys who routinely bottomed. Hunter looked
down on them—and fuck if Brooks was gonna be one of those guys to
his friend.

Of course, Brooks hadn’t actually bottomed yet with Matt. But he

knew they’d get there eventually. It was written all over Matt’s face
every time Matt climbed on top.

Brooks wasn’t going to tell Hunter even the smallest detail of his

love  life  with  Matt.  Not  ever.  “Y’know—I  don’t  care  about  the
money. Matt’s a good guy.” Watching the way Hunter’s face twisted
in  disbelief,  Brooks  decided  to  say  something  that  would  get  them
back on track. “And he’s great in bed.”

Inside, Brooks died a little. They were only words, but he felt like

he was prostituting Matt for Hunter’s benefit. Or maybe for his own.

Daisy Harris

“I’m gonna keep seeing him, so I don’t think it counts as bet material
anymore.”

Hunter crossed his arms, looking pissed. Brooks had seen that

look before. Hunter Ford hated it when someone changed the rules on
his games. “You can’t back out of a bet. And anyway, what proof do
you have?”

“What the fuck do you want? The guy’s underwear or

something?” Brooks’s gut flipped in a knot. He was cool with lying to
his friend. Fuck, it was just words, and he could always deny he’d
said them. But he wasn’t sure what he’d do if Hunter demanded some
kind of proof. Or, God forbid, if Hunter ever asked Matt outright.

“Maybe.” Hunter looked pensive, but then his attention turned to a

younger kid who walked toward them from the other side of the
cafeteria. The kid wore skinny jeans and headphones hanging loosely
around his neck. His eyes were nervous, and his posture was twitchy.
But he stared at Hunter with an expression that was grimly resolute.

“Um…” The kid walked around to behind Hunter’s shoulder and

leaned in to mutter in his ear. “You didn’t call me after last weekend.
What gives?”

“Dude, not the fucking place,” Hunter said back to him, loudly

enough that the next  table over heard. The kid  blushed,  and his  eyes
went  wide  with  panic.  But  then  Hunter  lowered  his  voice  and  said,
“Meet  me on the  west  side of the lacrosse field  at  two.” He nodded
over Brooks’s way. “You wanna join us?”

The kid paled, his gaze darting to Brooks, then back to Hunter.

Shit. Brooks and Hunter had paired up with guys before on occasion,
but none who were freshman. And none who looked like this kid
did—like a nervous rabbit.

“No, thanks.” Brooks trained his attention on his food, unable to

meet the kid’s stare. He had no idea why the kid would seek Hunter
out if Hunter was being such a dick to him. But, he’d seen it over and
over with the guys Hunter slept with. Hunter would dick them over,

Player and the Prude

and then they’d follow him around like ducklings. Some guys were
gluttons for punishment.

“Um, see you later.” The kid looked at Hunter hopefully, but since

Hunter was thumbing through something on his phone, he slumped
and wandered off.

Brooks glared at his friend. “You’re having him come by

practice? What, to suck you off?” Brooks knew Hunter liked to hook
up  in  places  where  he  might  get  caught,  and  he  even  knew  that
campus  security  turned  a  blind  eye  on  it  a  couple  times.  But  the
lacrosse  team  had  a  reputation  to  uphold,  not  to  mention  a  strict
conduct policy.

“Please—as if no one else on the team ever gets blown out behind

the gym.” Hunter went back to his breakfast, seemingly immune to
Brooks’s annoyance.

Of course Brooks knew that some of the guys on the team did

stupid shit with their girlfriends. But those guys were straight. They’d
get  in  less  trouble  if  they  were  caught  fucking,  and  Hunter  knew  it.
“Dude,  please  tell  me  that  kid  is  at  least  eighteen.”  He  almost
certainly  was—unless  he’d  skipped  a  year  of  high  school  or
something. But Brooks wouldn’t put it past Hunter to sleep with the
one kid at Holsum who’d managed to get in early.

“So, what week were you thinking for that Hamptons trip this

summer?” Hunter asked, as if he hadn’t heard anything Brooks had
said.

Brooks ground his teeth. Hunter was playing him like a fiddle, but

that didn’t make it any less effective. He’d promised his mom he’d at
least try to arrange for Hunter to come out. His mom and dad were a
perfect team—his dad being on the board of directors of a major bank
and his mother acting as his unofficial public relations rep. “I was
thinking Fourth of July weekend.” The Prices always hosted a party
the day of the fireworks, and it was the event they threw that got the
most media coverage. Brooks knew it was the best time to impress the
Fords.

Daisy Harris

“Ooh, not sure I can make it then. We always have a big thing on

the  compound  then.”  Hunter’s  family  owned  some  huge,  hidden
stretch  of  land  somewhere  in  Texas.  They  guarded  the  place  like  a
fortress, inviting only presidential hopefuls and CEOs to visit. Though
Hunter  kept  dropping  hints  that  if  Brooks  played  his  cards  right,  he
might be asked to visit.

Brooks was getting sick of Hunter dangling an invitation over his

head.  “Well,  you  could  come  out  in  late  August.  The  water’s  nice
then,  but  people  start  heading  back  to  work  after  the  twentieth.”  He
assumed that if Hunter was going to be in the exclusive area, he might
want to hit some of the social events or do a little networking himself,
but Hunter just waved his hand. “Eh, doesn’t matter to me.”

Hunter started texting. Brooks waited for a solid minute,

expecting Hunter to say something more about the trip, but Hunter
seemed to have forgotten about the conversation now that he had
made Brooks heel.

Player and the Prude

Chapter Seven

“C’mon. Just this one time?” Brooks tightened his grip around

Matt’s waist, giving him a good-natured wrestle.

Matt lay on top of him, fully clothed, which was the only reason

he was letting Brooks still touch him. They only had an hour between
classes,  and  he’d  been  planning  on  doing  what  they  normally  did
together  to  make  love,  but  he  could  tell  from  the  gleam  in  Brooks’s
eyes that Brooks wasn’t going to go along placidly that day.

“Why? Don’t you like it?”
Brooks lifted his head off the bed to give Matt a kiss. He wrapped

his legs around Matt’s thighs and ground his hips up. “’Course I do.”
Brooks grinned. Then he nuzzled Matt’s neck, right under his jaw.
“But I want to do you a little, if you’re up for it.” His voice was
seductive and sweet, the temptation of it niggling under Matt’s skin to
sink into his belly.

Matt frowned. He hadn’t given much thought lately to the fact that

Brooks  wasn’t  generally  a  passive  guy,  since  he  was  enjoying  what
they did when they were alone together so much. And Brooks always
seemed to enjoy himself. But if Matt stopped to consider it, he knew
he  should  really  try  to  let  Brooks  touch  and  kiss  him  more.  He
couldn’t keep Brooks tied up in imaginary binds forever. Nor did he
want to.

“Well…” Matt knew he had more control now—over his

responses and impulses. Regular orgasms with Brooks had made him
a lot more confident. “I guess.”

“S’okay. Don’t worry about it.” Brooks rolled onto his back and

hooked his hands around Matt’s headboard. He smiled as he did it—

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like he was trying to lighten the mood or show Matt that he wasn’t
upset that Matt didn’t want to experiment. “Whatever you want is
fine.”

Matt looked down at his grinning lover, his chest so full of feeling

he could hardly breathe. He liked Brooks so much, and really wanted
to get over his reluctance for him. “No.” Matt eased Brooks’s hands
out from under the headboard and urged them back around his waist.
It felt good—comfortable and loving. Like he’d always wished he
could be with a boyfriend. “No, let’s do it this way.”

Brooks tilted his head, and narrowed his eyes. “It’s really okay?”
“Yeah.” Matt kissed him quickly. “Yeah, it’s good.”
“Oh, really?” Brooks winked, then hitched a leg over Matt’s hip

and flipped Matt onto his back. “How about this?” He lowered his lips
to  Matt’s,  taking  control  of  their  kiss.  Brooks  alternated  nips  on  his
top and bottom lip with slow weaving together of their tongues. Matt
liked  it  because  it  felt  predictable,  and  because  he  could  tell  Brooks
liked being in charge for once.

Brooks moaned as they kissed, thrust his hips into Matt’s belly,

and wiggled when Matt stroked a hand up his side.

With eager fingers, Brooks fed his hand under the waistband of

Matt’s khakis. He didn’t move to take Matt’s pants off, though. It was
as if he wanted to let Matt decide when he was going to unfasten his
button. His hand closed over Matt’s dick—warm and firm. At the
wrong angle, but Matt liked that, because Brooks strained to jerk him
off, like his hand was trapped, but he didn’t dare ask Matt to make
things easier.

Matt fed his hands between them and unfastened his pants. With

jerky movements, he unbuckled Brooks’s belt and tugged open his
fly. The pair of them jostled and kicked until they both got their pants
to their knees. Matt sighed as they wove their legs together, their hips
so close they couldn’t even get a hand between them.

Player and the Prude

Brooks straightened onto his arms—strong and handsome and

more perfect than Matt deserved. “How about adding lube or
something?”

“Hm?” Matt pulled Brooks’s hips down onto his own, grinding

into the increased pressure. He could get off just with what they were
doing, though Matt did remember how nice it always felt to slide into
cum when they were finishing. “I guess,” he said. “But I don’t have
any.”

“No worries.” Brooks nipped his top lip, and then bounded up off

the bed. He tugged up his jeans before slipping into the hall. In no
time, he reappeared at the door and launched on top of Matt. In his
hand, he held a small bottle.

“Did you get that out of Gabe’s room?” Matt fought a wave of

revulsion and anger. He wound his hand into the sheets to stop from
launching out of the bed. “Oh, God, did you remember because
you’d—”

“No.” Brooks put his hand across Matt’s mouth, stopping him

from talking. He pinned Matt in what might have been a wrestling
move so that Matt couldn’t throw him off. “I never fucked Gabe. Hell,
I’d never even been into his room before. I just figured he’d have
some.”

Matt forced his nerves to settle, the tension in his muscles

releasing a fraction. “Yeah, I know, you told me already…”

Brooks pecked a kiss on his cheek, then rubbed a slower one over

his lips. “It’s fine.” He humped into Matt’s hip, causing Matt’s
erection to ache. “But stop being jealous, okay? I never even kissed
the guy.”

Matt knew Brooks was right. If he gave into his jealousy, he’d

spend all his time fuming. Forget Kevin Bacon, there were only two
degrees of separation between a gay man and someone who had slept
with Brooks. “I know…” Matt tried not to let his mind wander to
what else the little bottle had been used for, but when Brooks opened

Daisy Harris

it, he had to fiddle off a foil cover to the top, so Matt realized it must
have been new.

“Here…” Brooks squeezed a dollop of lubricant directly onto

Matt’s cock. Matt would have thought it would be cold, but he didn’t
really feel it. But then Brooks lowered onto him, their dicks brushed
and spread slippery lube between them, and Matt felt like every nerve
ending in his dick came alive.

“Holy shhhhh…” Matt hissed. He grabbed hard onto Brooks’s

hips, his fingers gripping tight. Matt used his leverage to work Brooks
against  him,  their  bodies  twisting  and  straining,  every  inch  of  their
skin  touching  and  scraping  and  rubbing,  and  the  whole  time  it  was
wet…so wet and hot. And Brooks’s cock was hard as a rock next to
Matt’s and just as insistent.

“D’you want to do that between my legs?” Brooks whispered

between their thrusts.

But Matt just shook his head. No. It was too good to stop. With a

snarl,  he  rolled  them  over  so  that  he  was  on  top  again,  and  Matt
rubbed hard into Brooks’s groin, the friction harsher now that the lube
had  spread  and  absorbed  a  little.  He  reached  down  and  grabbed
Brooks’s  cock  and  his  own,  pumping  them  together.  Matt  bent  his
head  to  Brooks’s  ear,  and  before  he  could  stop  himself,  he  growled.
“Shut up and come, bitch.”

Brooks gasped and wrapped his ankles over Matt’s hips. He

shook, bucking into Matt’s hand, and in three thrusts, he shot jets of
seed onto Matt’s chest, onto his own chest, all over Matt’s hand. And
Matt fought a searing desire to demand Brooks lick it off—lick all of
it off and then get on his knees and suck Matt until he came.

Disturbing as the image was, it set a fire in Matt’s guts and

twisted his belly in knots. His dick became almost unbearably
sensitive, so that Matt could only tug on his shaft. Matt sprayed cum
as high as Brooks’s neck. He arched his hips forward in an attempt to
get it to Brooks’s mouth, though he didn’t want to admit it.

Player and the Prude

Matt dropped onto his side, careful not to crush Brooks with his

weight, but also needing to think. He reached for the table by his bed
and pulled some tissues out of the pack. He kissed Brooks’s forehead
as he handed him some, but his mind was spinning.

Shit. He couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. Matt had lost

control. And yeah, it was only for that split second, but he hated
himself for it. He wanted to love Brooks, to be loved in return. Not
treat him like a filthy slut—the way his torrid imagination wanted.

“Wow.” Brooks rolled onto his side and smiled, oblivious to

Matt’s frantic thoughts. “That was unexpected.” There was a naughty
gleam to his eyes.

“Uh, yeah.” Matt wasn’t sure what to say. He felt like that person

he’d been a moment before was crouching back into a hidden part of
himself, where —hopefully—it would stay trapped.

Brooks scooted up the bed and pressed a kiss on Matt’s mouth.

“Now I really wanna blow you.”

The words shot want through Matt’s body so that he started

getting  hard  again  even  though  he  hadn’t  gone  fully  soft.  “I  have  to
get  to  class.”  He  bounded  off  the  bed,  grabbing  his  underwear  and
pants off the floor as he went.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Brooks pushed onto his elbows.

When Matt didn’t answer right away, he lifted to sitting. “Seriously. I
thought it was kinda hot.”

Matt shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to reassure

Brooks, and that made him feel even worse than he already did. “It’s
nothing. I’m just late.”

“Okay.” Brooks curled out of bed and starting putting on his

clothes. His eyes were wary. “I’ll walk you there.”

“You don’t have to do that.” If Brooks kept looking at him with

that  caring  expression,  Matt  knew  he’d  fall  back  into  bed  with  the
guy.  Probably  do  more  things  that  made  him  hate  himself.  So  Matt
grabbed  his  book  bag  off  the  floor  while  Brooks  was  still  trying  to

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find his shirt. Scowling at his own cowardice, Matt reached for the
doorknob. “Just lock the door when you go.”

“Wait.” Brooks grabbed Matt’s wrist. “We’re okay, right?” He

searched Matt’s face, his blue eyes nervous.

Matt knew he had to say something. “Yeah, we’re good.” He

pulled Brooks close enough to press a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see
you tonight, okay?”

Brooks nodded, though he looked uncertain. But Matt had nothing

more to give. He was too wrapped up in his own roiling emotions. So
he forced a wan smile as he escaped out the door.

* * * *

“Have you gotten a firm date yet?” His mom’s voice was chipper.
Brooks looked at his watch. It was seven thirty. So she’d had

enough time to get tipsy, but not belligerent. He’d chosen a good time
to call. “No. Hunter’s being coy about it. But I’m pretty sure Fourth
of July isn’t going to work.”

“No? Why not?” His mother’s tone shifted to something more

harsh. Maybe she’d had more to drink than he calculated.

“They have a party at his family’s place. You know how busy

people  get  on  the  Fourth.”  It  was  ridiculous  for  his  mom  to  think
someone like Hunter Ford would be able to drop everything and stay
at  his  summerhouse  that  weekend.  Sometimes  his  mother  had  an
overblown  sense  of  his  family’s  importance.  “He’s  thinking  maybe
the end of August.” Brooks dragged a piece of paper across the bed to
where he was sitting. He doodled in the margins, drawing irate faces
and  cartoons  flipping  the  finger  just  to  distract  him  from  the  phone
call.

“Oh.” She sighed dramatically. “Well, I would have thought he’d

want to come out sooner than that, considering you two are together.”

Brooks scribbled over his first crummy drawing, then sketched an

image of Matt. Not Matt the way he normally looked, but in bondage

Player and the Prude

gear and leather. He smiled at the picture, thinking of Matt’s face if he
ever saw it. “I’ve told you, Mom, it’s not like that with me and
Hunter. Just because we’re both—”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” His mother rarely let him say the word gay

out loud. For someone so intent on using her son’s sexual orientation
to her advantage, she was surprisingly homophobic. “You’re a very
good-looking boy. I can’t imagine he’s not interested.”

Brooks scribbled a flogger into cartoon-Matt’s fist, trying to

distance  himself  from  the  conversation.  Of  course  Hunter  was
interested.  But  though  Brooks  had  hooked  up  with  Hunter  on
occasion,  he  would  never  consider  dating  him  for  real.  Even  when
they first met, he knew he’d never do more than blow the guy in the
back  room  of  a  party.  Hunter  already  had  him  by  the  balls,
figuratively. He didn’t need to make that literally, too.

“It’s such a blessing in disguise, you both being…the way you

are. And in college at the same time. Really, Brooks, you’re wasting
the tuition we’re paying if you don’t take advantage of the situation.”

“I’m seeing someone. So, it’s not like Hunter is an option right

now.” He hadn’t planned to mention Matt to his mother, of all people,
but it just slipped out. Maybe because he needed an excuse to get her
off his back.

“Really? Who is he?”
Brooks knew she didn’t mean “describe him to me.” She meant,

“What country clubs do his parents belong to, and can they get me a
membership?”

“He’s from near Fargo, and his dad is a minister.”
“Oh, so he’s nobody.”
Brooks didn’t know how to respond. That was just how his

mother saw the world. Either people had something you wanted, or
they weren’t worth noticing. He’d never really considered before
what a horrible way that was to look at people.

“Listen, I need to get back to studying for my LSATs.” Practice

tests littered his bed, though the exam was still months away. Brooks

Daisy Harris

needed a good score to get into the MBA program he planned to do
during his first year working at Coldman Bank. Sure, he had
connections. But no amount of phone calls to the dean would get him
in if his scores weren’t stellar.

“Of course. I’ll let you go. Just tell me when you have a date for

Hunter to come out and visit. I have to organize extra housekeeping
ages in advance with the new service.”

“Yeah. I’ll do that.” He set down the phone on his dresser and

finished his picture. He poured his annoyance into drawing Hunter,
bent over and hog-tied in front of bondage-Matt. By the time he was
done, he felt marginally better.

Brooks crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash. Then he

started another picture—this one just of Matt’s face. Brooks normally
doodled comics, but this one was more serious. Matt’s square jaw, the
shape  of  his  eyes,  the  lump  in  his  throat  that  always  rose  and  fell
when  he  was  nervous.  Brooks’s  thoughts  returned  to  how  Matt  had
looked earlier that day after they’d gotten off together.

He had assumed Matt was cool with what they were doing. But

now he didn’t know. Maybe he was hurting Matt in some way by
pushing for things to go further. Maybe he was chasing after the thing
he wanted without giving any thought to the person he was getting it
from.

Maybe Brooks was being the person his mother had made him—

selfish,  and  an  asshole.  And  he  didn’t  want  to  be  that  guy.  At  least,
not with Matt. He loved holding hands with him, and talking to him,
just  walking  around  campus  between  classes.  And  if  having  sex—
even  the  proto-sex  that  they  were  toying  with—upset  Matt,  then
Brooks didn’t want to do it anymore. Matt was more important to him
than that.

As he shaded the area under Matt’s eyes, Brooks’s heart beat

faster. He knew something was shifting for him, something major. For
maybe the first time in his life he was going to give up something he
wanted for someone else. And he couldn’t believe how good it felt.

Player and the Prude

He liked Matt. Really, more than liked him. Matt was his. And he

was Matt’s. Nothing about that was about sex.

A knock sounded at the door, and Brooks knew it was Matt.

They’d made a habit out of meeting at Matt’s house between classes
but at Brooks’s in the evening, so Brooks figured at least Matt was
still coming over. He dragged open the door, brimming with the need
to tell Matt about his new revelation. “Hi, I—”

“Wait.” Matt glanced at the floor. He wore baggy khakis and a

striped T-shirt. His shoes were horrible.

But that didn’t matter. Brooks was still thrilled to see him.

“C’mon in, I want to tell you…”

“No. I won’t be able to say it if we start kissing. So I have to

now.” Matt walked over to the desk and sat down in Brooks’s chair.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea.” Matt’s eyes darted to the
bedroom, leaving no question as to what he meant by “this.”

“I know.” Brooks crossed to where Matt was sitting and bent onto

his  knees.  He  folded  to  sit  on  his  lower  legs,  looking  up  into  Matt’s
strong, Nordic face. Matt recoiled noticeably, as if he thought Brooks
was  going to  molest  him. The action made  Brooks  smile.  “I’ve  been
doing  some  thinking…”  Brooks  touched  Matt’s  hand,  feeling  his
warmth. “Maybe we should lay off the sex for a while. Until you feel
more comfortable. Or maybe until we’ve been dating longer.”

“Really?” Matt raised a skeptical eyebrow. He stared into

Brooks’s eyes for a long moment before frowning. “You must think
I’m the biggest loser.”

“No.” Brooks wove their fingers together. He hated seeing Matt

upset—seeing him shut down and fold in on himself. Brooks wanted
to drag him out again, any way he could. “I don’t. I think you’re
awesome. And that you’re worth waiting for.”

“You do?”
Brooks almost laughed at the incredulous look on Matt’s face.

Matt seemed younger when he was confused. Almost like he was still
in his teens. “Of course.” Brooks pulled Matt’s hand a little, so he

Daisy Harris

could cradle it in his own. “You’re cool, and sweet, and…” He’d
never really thought about it before, but maybe it was at the heart of
why he’d fallen for Matt. “And you make me a better person. You let
me be a better person.”

Matt’s face was impassive as ever, but a smile crinkled, just

slightly, the corner of his eyes. “Brooks…” Matt flushed with color.
“You know I’ve always wanted you, right?” He chuckled, a low,
rumbling noise that Brooks felt more than heard. “But I don’t know if
I can do this.” Again, his attention shifted to the bedroom.

“Why?” Brooks asked. “You’ve got that summer internship in

New York, and we can live together when I start my job. We’ve got
plenty of time to get physical later if you don’t want to now.”

“I want to do things to you.” Matt raised his voice. “Stuff I

wouldn’t like myself for doing.” He launched out of the chair, pacing
the  length  of  the  room.  “Even  if  we  were  married,  for  God’s  sake.”
He paused his  marching  to  stare up at  the  ceiling.  “Especially if we
were  married.  How  could  I  want  to  hurt  you?  I  lo—”  Matt  froze.  “I
didn’t mean to say that.”

Slowly, so as not to freak Matt out, Brooks stood and eased closer.

“Matt…” He reached for Matt’s hand, but when Matt just flinched
away, Brooks asked, “Honey?”

Matt fisted his hands at his sides, as if he had to work to resist

grabbing Brooks’s hand. “I gotta go.”

Brooks dashed ahead of him to the door. “What the fuck, man?”

He reached behind him to twist the lock. “You’re not fucking leaving
until we talk this shit out.”

“I can’t.” Matt threw his hands up. “I can’t do this, Brooks. I—”
“Shut up.” Brooks crossed to him, knowing he’d be able to beat

the  slower  Matt  to  the  door  if  necessary.  He  thanked  his  lucky  stars
he’d  spent  so  much  time  practicing  sprints.  Brooks  grabbed  Matt’s
face,  trying  to  land  a  kiss.  But  when  Matt  yanked  away,  Brooks
shouted, “What? Now I can’t even kiss you?”

Matt scowled.

Player and the Prude

“You’re not going to hurt me.” Brooks got up in his face, so close

their chests were nearly touching. To his surprise, Matt didn’t back
down.

“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.” Brooks reached for Matt’s leg and caught his thigh

for a squeeze before Matt shoved him off.

“I’m six five.” Matt slouched as if he could make himself smaller.

As if Brooks would want him to.

Brooks took another step forward, measuring Matt with his eyes.

“Dude, I know.” He gave an experimental push on Matt’s chest,
smiling when Matt fought not to fall back. “And you seriously think
you could take me?” He’d meant it as a tease—nothing more—but
Matt’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw slid forward.

He growled. “Don’t push me.” Other than glaring at Brooks with a

stern expression, he didn’t move.

“Really? Why not?” Brooks shoved him again, this time annoyed.

He’d put up with a lot from Matt—played along with his sex games,
patiently worked through his issues. Fuck, Brooks had been willing to
give up sex for the guy. And now Matt was backing out because he
was scared?

Well, fuck him. Brooks was scared, too. He didn’t do nice shit for

people. He didn’t give up what he wanted for people. And he
certainly didn’t put up with people taking his generosity and tossing it
out like a piece of trash. “Why shouldn’t I push you?” He shoved
again, this time hard enough that Matt reacted by leaning forward, his
chest growing and his scowl more intense.

But still, Matt wasn’t talking or moving, so Brooks tried again. He

launched onto him, grabbing his shoulders, trying to wrestle him onto
the ground.

Matt twisted, dragging Brooks as they went so that they fell onto

the couch in a messy jumble. “Jesus, Brooks.” He grabbed Brooks’s
arms, forcing them behind Brooks’s back. “Stop it.”

Daisy Harris

Brooks threw his weight forward, breaking Matt’s grip. “Fuck,

no.” It felt too damn good to be touching Matt, as hard as he wanted,
even  if  they  were  fighting.  “Not  ’til  you  give.”  He  spun  and  hooked
Matt  behind  the  shoulders,  dragging  him  off  the  couch  and  onto  the
floor  where  Brooks  landed  on  top  of  him  with  a  thud.  He  took  the
chance  to  grind  his  hard-on  into  Matt’s  leg,  snarling  when  he  felt
Matt’s own at his hip.

“You don’t know,” Matt spat. He grabbed Brooks by the hair,

wrenching  him  off  and  rolling  so  that  Matt  landed  on  top.  When
Brooks  wrapped  his  legs  around  Matt’s  hips,  Matt  reared  back  and
tossed  Brooks  onto  his  belly  like  a  sack  of  potatoes.  Brooks  could
have fought him on that maneuver, but Matt’s aggression was getting
him too hot.

Yeah, this was what Brooks wanted, what he needed from Matt.

Fuck if he was going to let Matt run away. Brooks was facedown on
the floor with Matt pressing his cheek into his shag carpeting. He
arched so his ass would push up into Matt’s groin. “So why don’t you
tell me, tough guy?”

Matt stilled, and Brooks felt his grip loosen even as Matt’s

fingernails bit harder into his arm. It was like the fight was going out
of him, and Matt curled downward until he rested his chin on
Brooks’s shoulder. “I’m so ashamed,” Matt whispered into Brooks’s
back.

Brooks felt tears forming, and he swallowed hard, shocked at his

sudden rush of emotion. He might not have grown up with the general
prohibitions against sex that Matt had, but he understood feeling
guilty, embarrassed, and—yes—even ashamed of what he wanted to
do in bed. “Yeah.” It was the only comfort he could give. “I know.”

He felt Matt soften at his back, rubbing his thumb along Brooks’s

spine. But Matt didn’t talk for a minute, and Brooks—lost in his own
thoughts—stayed silent. He’d accepted that he wanted to have sex
with men way before he could admit to himself that he was gay. But

Player and the Prude

he could understand how for Matt the label might have been an easier
cross to bear than the actual sex acts.

Still, Brooks couldn’t let Matt give up everything between them.

Not for something as stupid as misplaced shame. “So, what are you
going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.” Matt tensed. “I don’t know how to stop feeling

this way.” He moved to get up, but Brooks caught his leg and flipped
to get Matt on his back.

Straddling him, Brooks cupped Matt’s neck—not to choke the

guy, but to get his undivided attention. “Just go with it, man. Keep
doing the type of stuff we’re doing and see if you stop feeling guilty
after a while.” That’s what had worked for Brooks in high school.

At first, he could barely look at himself in the mirror after he’d

done something with a boy. But he found that the more he hooked up,
the less often the self-loathing caught him in its grip. Maybe that’s
why he’d hooked up so often.

“I guess.” Matt sounded unsure. He relaxed into the carpet,

roaming his hands up and down Brooks’s thighs—as if, even thinking
about leaving, Matt couldn’t stop touching him. “I don’t know if I’m
supposed to tell you the things I think about doing, or whether I
should go with it and assume you’ll tell me to stop if you don’t like it.
I know you said you prefer—”

“Shh.” Brooks rubbed Matt’s chest, getting turned on now that

they were groping more than fighting. “Forget I said that, okay?”

“But I want you to enjoy it, too.” Matt’s olive gaze was earnest,

and a little scared.

Brooks grinned, palming Matt’s ribs, scooting to touch him lower.

“Seriously, man. It’s not like I’ve hated it the times I’ve bottomed. I
just didn’t make a habit out of it. And anyway, we don’t even have to
have anal.”

Matt closed his eyes and bit his lip. He thrust up into Brooks’s

balls. “Yeah, that’s what Gabe says. But it’s not just that.”

Daisy Harris

“Okay.” Brooks nibbled Matt’s neck, trying to sound playful and

not  nervous.  He  was  really  hoping  Matt  wasn’t  going  to  say  he  was
into  scat  or  piss  play.  There  weren’t  too  many  things  Brooks  wasn’t
up  for,  but  even  he  had  his  limits.  He  murmured  in  Matt’s  ear,  “So
why don’t you tell me?”

“Fine.” Matt gripped Brooks’s hips extra hard. He rushed to

whisper, “I want to smack you. And come in your mouth. Beat your
ass and cheeks hot and red and not let you come…” Matt took a shaky
breath, as if he were getting himself back under control. Then he
added, “Oh, and fuck you.”

Brooks grinned, rubbing his hands up Matt’s shirt to feel Matt’s

smooth  chest.  Really,  Matt’s  interests  were  pretty  run-of-the-mill
kink.  He  could  see  how  someone  with  Matt’s  upbringing  would  be
conflicted,  but  all  the  guy  really  needed  was  to  read  a  few  BDSM
guides. He was just about to say so when Matt cut him off, grabbing
Brooks’s hands.

“I want to say mean things to you.” Matt gazed at him with steady

eyes, and Brooks understood that this part was what bothered Matt the
most. “It’s like these words pop into my head. Horrible things, stuff I
would never, ever say to a person. Especially not to you. But they get
me so hard, and I don’t think I can stop myself.”

“Huh.” Brooks considered it for a second, though he stayed seated

across Matt’s hips. He wracked his mind for what Matt could say to
him in the heat of passion that would actually hurt his feelings. “I
probably wouldn’t want you to call me ‘faggot.’”

“Oh.” Matt’s face screwed up in confusion, as if he had never

even considered the word. “I wouldn’t do that.”

That made Brooks feel somewhat better. “Okay.” He considered

what else might be off-limits. With a shrug, he said, “I probably don’t
want you saying my dick is small, either.” Brooks knew it wasn’t, but
he didn’t think he’d get off in a sexual situation where someone
wanted to insult his junk.

Player and the Prude

Matt cracked a smile. “It never occurred to me.” Then with a little

eye roll, he said, “It’s not, anyway. I don’t know why you’d even
worry about it.”

The mood between them lightened enough that Brooks bent to

press more kisses onto Matt’s neck. He stroked Matt’s arm. “Well, I
can’t  think  of  too  many  other  things  that  would  really  piss  me  off.
Why don’t you just go with it and I’ll let  you know if it gets out of
hand?” Brooks thought about the tidbits of stuff he’d heard about safe
words  and  hard  limits,  but  he  didn’t  want  to  freak  Matt  out  by
bringing  all  that  up.  Not  when  Matt  had  been  ready  to  bolt  over  a
single growled curse word.

“Really?” Matt rubbed his hands fitfully over Brooks’s waist, his

thighs, his chest. His movements grew jerky, more aggressive.

Brooks sat up and rubbed his ass on Matt’s dick. “Really, you’re

not going to hurt me.” He wove his touch up into Matt’s hair,
scrubbing his scalp, showing Matt his strength.

Matt’s eyes fell to half lidded, and he made a noise from his chest

that sounded like a purr. Slowly, Matt shifted, and with shaking
fingers, he cupped Brooks’s face. “You sure?” His gaze was hard and
intense.

So serious that Brooks swallowed a lump in his throat. “Yeah, I’m

sure.” But the last word came out in a whoosh, because Matt grabbed
Brooks by the shoulders and wrestled him down to the floor.

Daisy Harris

Chapter Eight

Before he could stop himself, Matt grabbed the back of Brooks’s

neck and yanked Brooks into a kiss—this one harder than any they’d
shared before. He scored Brooks’s lips with his teeth, plunged into his
mouth with his tongue. When Brooks tried to alter the angle of his
head, Matt slapped his cheek.

It wasn’t hard, but the sound filled the living room, leaving

nothing but Matt’s fear in its wake. Matt cupped Brooks’s face in his
hand and checked his expression, looking for anger, hurt—all the
things Matt worried Brooks would be feeling.

Brooks’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, his cheek red. He

looked so sexy that Matt wasn’t sure he could stop.

“M’fine.” Brooks pushed forward, trying to get another kiss. But

Matt didn’t let him.

“Really?”
“A little freaked out, I guess. But mostly turned on.” Then Brooks

lifted his head to get closer, his breaths quick. “Kiss me like that
again.” With a wry smile, he said, “Bitch.” He tried to wrestle off the
floor, though he seemed more intent on provoking Matt than actually
getting up.

Matt shoved him down, pinning his legs, and was rewarded by

Brooks’s eager groan. He nearly ripped Brooks’s sweatshirt getting it
over his head. Brooks helped—dragging his T-shirt higher. And then
Brooks was shirtless, squirming underneath him on the carpet. Matt
loved that Brooks was strong and muscular. It wouldn’t be anywhere
near as arousing to dominate someone smaller.

Player and the Prude

The thought stopped him long enough that Matt slowed their

kisses. There was that word—dominate. That was what he wanted to
do. He’d never really thought about what that meant before.

“What the matter?” Brooks asked between gasps.
Matt just shook his head. He grabbed Brooks’s wrists, stretching

them over his head. Then Matt bucked into him, crushing his dick into
Brooks’s thigh. All the while, he worked his mouth down Brooks’s
neck—biting the tense muscles, sucking the hollow right above his
collarbone. When he got to Brooks’s nipple, he caught it between his
teeth.

“Whoa.” Brooks arched, his forehead crumpled. “That’s…a little

hard.” Matt would have thought Brooks’s complaint would have just
made him want to get more aggressive. But he was glad and surprised
to find that it had the opposite effect. Maybe it was because he was
holding Brooks down, but he found that he didn’t want to bite him
harder. Instead, Matt lapped a few times until Brooks squirmed. And
then, slowly, he took the tip of Brooks’s nipple between his teeth.

With gentle determination, he tugged that sensitive tip in little

jerks away from Brooks’s body, until Brooks was bucking his hips off
the floor, working his hard cock into Matt’s belly.

“Take your pants off.” Matt reared back to let Brooks maneuver.

But while Brooks shimmied his jeans all the way off his ankles, Matt
only opened his pants enough to get out his dick. He watched Brooks
lie back on the ground and arrange himself, completely naked. And it
felt so completely right for Matt to still be wearing clothes. “You are
such a slut,” he said without thinking.

Brooks’s eyes widened with surprise, then lit up with desire. He

didn’t say anything, which Matt appreciated. He worried he might
want to slap Brooks again if he got any back talk.

“Here.” Matt kneeled across Brooks’s chest, thrusting his erection

at Brooks’s mouth. “You said you wanted to suck it, right?”

Brooks nodded eagerly, hitching a hand behind his head to

support his neck and lifting off the floor far enough to lick at Matt’s

Daisy Harris

cap. He hummed like he liked it, so Matt leaned forward, angling his
dick to fit between Brooks’s lips.

“You’re going to swallow it deeper than you did all those other

guys.” Matt grabbed a throw pillow that had fallen off the couch and
shoved  it  under  Brooks’s  head.  Then  he  balanced  his  weight  with  a
hand on the armrest and eased forward. Brooks’s mouth was open, his
tongue  lapping,  so  Matt  flexed  his  hips,  pushing  his  shaft  into  that
perfect  heat  and  wetness.  He  kept  going  until  he  felt  resistance,  and
then held  still, watching  Brooks’s eyes for fear, his  nose  to  see if he
was struggling to breathe.

“Can you take more?”
Brooks’s lips were stretched taut, but Matt could still make out his

tiny nod. Then Brooks took a slow breath, and Matt pressed in just a
little farther.

His dick felt amazing, clamped in tight heat. Matt tucked his hips

back enough to give Brooks a chance to breathe before arching
forward again.

Brooks made a strangled noise and reached for the base of Matt’s

dick. He wrapped his fingers around the part his mouth couldn’t
reach, pumping Matt in short pulls, so that between his mouth and his
hand, he was working the entire length. The whole time he moaned
out appreciative little sounds, so hot Matt wanted to bottle the noise—
record it so he could listen to it all day.

Brooks bucked, and Matt peeked over his shoulder to find that

Brooks was erect and dripping pre-cum, thrusting into air.

“Did you come while you were blowing the other guys?” Matt

thrust into Brooks’s mouth in short bursts, not far enough to make
Brooks deep-throat him again, but with enough speed and friction to
get close to orgasm.

“Mm mm,” Brooks moaned, shaking his head “no.”
Matt could tell from the crease between his eyebrows that

Brooks’s jaw was hurting, so he pulled out to give him a break.

Player and the Prude

Brooks swung around his jaw, then closed his mouth to swallow.

After a few quick breaths, he nodded again, inviting Matt with his
eyes.

“You’re so good.” Matt cupped Brooks’s head and fed his cock

into  his  mouth  again.  And  this  time  he  didn’t  wait  to  savor  it.  Matt
pumped inside, chasing his orgasm deeper and deeper into that perfect
tunnel. He could  tell  that  Brooks was  struggling  to  keep  up, because
his  mouth  got  wetter,  but  Brooks  groaned  around  Matt’s  cock  like
he’d  never  been  more  turned  on  in  his  life,  and  the  sound  of  those
gasps and moans was enough.

Matt’s belly filled with fire, and his dick thickened between

Brooks’s lips. The pulsing started in the base and echoed up his shaft
until he was shaking, thrusting his cum into Brooks’s throat. The only
thing stopping him from choking Brooks was Brooks’s fist, locked
like a vise around Matt’s base.

Brooks couldn’t seem to swallow it all, because cum bubbled out

the corner of his mouth, dribbling down his cheek. It was the sexiest
thing Matt could imagine.

With a sigh, Matt pulled out. He rolled onto his side, and Brooks

was on top of him in a second, kissing cum into Matt’s mouth,
humping Matt’s pant leg, whispering a string of, “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck,
oh, fuck…”

“You gonna go?” Matt asked, though he knew the answer. Lord, it

felt so delicious being sated and calm while Brooks was losing his
mind.

“Yeah.” Brooks tried to kiss Matt again, but Matt pushed him

away.

“Get on your hands and knees.”
“No. I’m too close,” Brooks whined.
Matt flipped him over, wrestling Brooks into the position he

wanted. When Brooks didn’t move fast enough, he swatted him
across the ass. This time it didn’t sound all that loud, nor did Matt

Daisy Harris

have any qualms about smacking him again when Brooks wiggled.
“Okay. Now you can jerk off.”

He got behind Brooks, reveling in the sight of him on his knees,

one hand holding him up while the other worked furiously under his
body.  Brooks  was  a  warm  tan  color  all  over,  like  he  used  a  tanning
bed. The tone highlighted his physique so that he looked like a model,
or  a  porn  star.  Unable  to  resist,  Matt  cupped  Brooks’s  butt  cheeks,
feeling the warmth and the hard curve of it.

Brooks pushed back against him, shifting his hips like he was

trying to move Matt’s touch where he wanted. “You gonna fuck me?”
he asked. Matt could tell he was nervous.

“No.” Matt swiped his tongue across his thumb, getting it wet.

Then he grabbed Brooks’s ass with one hand, and pressed his other
thumb into Brooks’s hole.

The effect was instantaneous, with Brooks bucking onto Matt’s

hand, shivering  and pumping his  arm so fast  it was  a blur. And then
Brooks’s asshole clenched on his thumb. Brooks shouted, holding still
to  rub  out  the  last  of  his  orgasm.  Matt  watched  Brooks’s  shoulders
flex  while  he  climaxed,  the  movements  like  poetry  written  on
Brooks’s body.

“Oh, God.” Brooks fell forward, wiggling to avoid the wet spot.

He  grabbed  Matt’s  arm  and  wrapped  it  around  himself,  pulling  Matt
into  a  spoon  where  Brooks  was  in  front  with  Matt  to  his  back.  “Oh,
my  fucking  God,  that  was  good.”  He  breathed  hard,  the  sound  of  it
like tiny moans.

They stayed like that for a long moment, and though Matt’s mind

was full of questions, he felt too good to ask any of them. All he knew
was that Brooks was curled happily against him, making content
sounds. Eventually, Brooks cocked his head around for a kiss.

“Wow. I’m thirsty,” Brooks said. He shifted as if he would get up,

but Matt caught his arm and pulled him up onto the couch. He
snuggled him some more. “I’ll get it.” Matt rolled to standing. He

Player and the Prude

wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to take care of Brooks. Wait on him
like a prince until they were ready to fool around some more.

“Really? Aw, you’re the best.” Brooks flopped so he lay down on

the  couch.  He  dragged  an  afghan  over  his  shoulder.  Like  the  rest  of
Brooks’s  apartment,  his  couch  was  off-white  and  luxurious.  “Hurry
back.”  Brooks  looked  so  handsome  it  was  all  Matt  could  do  not  to
launch back into his arms.

Matt scanned the room for a cup, but he didn’t see one, so he

fastened  his  pants  and  went  to  the  kitchen.  He  grabbed  a  glass  from
the  cabinet  and  twisted  the  faucet.  There  was  a  window  right  above
the sink and Matt could just about make out some people talking next
door. Without really meaning to, he listened harder.

“Dude, I can’t believe Brooks’s still seeing that loser.” The voice

carried through the screened window above the sink.

Matt blinked and considered walking away. That was what he

really should have done—no good came of listening in, ever. But he
couldn’t seem to leave his spot. He turned off the water and strained
to hear.

“Yeah, pathetic. And he’s totally dick whipped, too. He didn’t

even want to fuck that twink with me the other day. When they break
up I’m going to fuck his face extra hard, just to get the taste of that
yeti out of his mouth.”

Raucous laughter carried through the window, making Matt’s

cheeks heat and his pulse race. He gripped the counter, trying to quell
his temper.

“Someone must be packing some serious meat. Wonder if he’s

given  it  to  Brooks  yet.”  The  voice  belonged  to  Hunter  Ford.  Matt
didn’t  know  the  guy  well,  but  he’d  heard  him  often  enough  to  have
recognized it.

The guy Hunter was talking to made some obscene noises—a

caricature  of  how  Brooks  had  sounded  only  a  few  minutes  earlier—
and Matt’s hands  balled  into fists.  He didn’t  care that the  guys were
talking trash about him. He had no illusions about what  Hunter Ford

Daisy Harris

thought about him. But Hunter was supposed to be Brooks’s friend.
Not his lover.

“I screwed up on that bet. Shoulda been a thousand to him if he

fucked Gigantor, but two thousand to me if Gigantor fucked him.”

Something touched Matt’s back, and he spun around.
“What’re you doing?” Brooks asked. But then he glanced at the

window, and his expression shifted to horrified. The guys on the
porch next door were still laughing, practically shouting about what
an idiot Brooks was and what a sap Matt was for not realizing Brooks
would only go out with him on a bet. The color slowly drained from
Brooks’s face.

“Um…I’m really sorry about them…”
Matt lifted his chin and walked out of the kitchen. He passed the

dining  room  table  and  retreated  far  enough  into  the  living  room  that
someone  wouldn’t  be  able  to  hear  through  the  front  window.  His
muscles  bunched  and  rage  boiled  under  his  skin,  but  he  forced  his
voice to stay calm.

“So. This is where you confess that you only went out with me as

a  joke?”  Matt  wasn’t  entirely  surprised.  They’d  both  had
preconceived  notions  of  each  other  before  they  started  dating.  And
perhaps  Matt’s  were  as  unfounded  as  Brooks’s.  But  the  rest  of  it—
how Hunter thought  Brooks  was his.  And that he’d  get  Brooks  back
after  Brooks  was  done  with  Matt.  That  part  felt  like  fire  burning  a
hole through his heart.

“Yeah, sorta.” Brooks looked everywhere but Matt—at the floor,

the walls, the ceiling. “I mean, it did start out that way.” Suddenly,
Brooks pinned Matt with his gaze, his eyes wet. “But you gotta know
I care about you. I…I think I love you. I didn’t know you back then. I
was an asshole.”

“Yeah.” Matt watched him intently, though he didn’t know what

he was looking for. “But what about now?” He pointed through the
apartment at the window. “You know he thinks you still belong to

Player and the Prude

him. Like you’re…” Matt scraped his nails through his hair. “He
thinks you’re his.”

Brooks twitched. “I…” He looked at the floor. “Me and Hunter

were never together.”

“Like hell.” Matt shoved his arm—just a little, but it was enough

for Matt to recoil on himself for fear he might actually hit him. “Tell
me you’ve never slept with him.”

Brooks’s lip quivered like he was about to cry. “We hooked up a

couple times.” He must have noticed Matt’s scowl, because Brooks
threw his hands up. “We were never a couple. It was casual.”

Now it was Matt’s turn to feel his eyes fill up with tears. He didn’t

even know why. Brooks had been with so many men, Matt didn’t
know why it should matter about Hunter. But it did. “Does he know
you’re not going to hook up with him again?”

Brooks sniffled, his tears breaking free. “It’s complicated.” He

tossed up his hands, as if being friends with Hunter was something
completely out of his control. “You don’t know my parents, or my
life. I have to be friends with him. And it’s just easier if I pretend…”

“Are you serious?” This time, Matt shoved Brooks harder, so hard

that  he  fell  back  a  step.  Self-loathing  filled  him  like  a  black  void,
making  Matt  despise  every  fiber  of  his  being,  even  as  he  couldn’t
seem to stop shouting. “You belong to me!”

Brooks swallowed, his blue eyes wide. He whispered, “I know.”
Matt shut his eyes, turning away. “Well, then you have to tell him

that.” He didn’t trust himself to be around Brooks. Hell, to be around
anybody. “I’m going to leave now.” When Brooks didn’t say
anything, Matt grabbed his backpack out of the corner and wrenched
open the door. It wasn’t until he got outside that he was able to look
back.

The apartment building was modern and high end. But Brooks

was watching Matt from the balcony, as if his housing complex was a
prison and Brooks had only just realized he was trapped.

Daisy Harris

Chapter Nine

Brooks banged on Hunter’s door.
“What?” Hunter called from inside.
“Just open the fucking door.” Brooks fisted his hands, pressing his

fingernails into his skin, the hint of pain the only thing that might
channel his anger so he didn’t beat Hunter Ford into the ground.

“Geez, fine.” Hunter pulled the door open. Nonchalant, he said,

“What do you want?”

Brooks glared at him, but though he knew a thousand things he

wanted to say, he struggled to call out the one thing that might be
important. Mostly, he just wanted to throw a punch. “What…You…”
Brooks scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Matt heard that bullshit
you guys were saying just now. About the bet and shit.”

Hunter cracked the door wider, revealing his friend Stan and a few

other guys from the team. “So what? You’ve had plenty of time to get
off with him. He was gonna find out sometime.”

“You’re an asshole.”
Hunter cocked his head, like he’d spotted some weakness and was

pondering how to exploit it. “You actually like him, don’t you?”

“I already told you that,” Brooks bit out. He’d made it clear weeks

ago that he was going to see Matt. “We’re dating, in case you hadn’t
noticed. So I’d appreciate if you kept your commentary to yourself.”

“Oh, c’mon. I know you’re gonna keep your options open.”

Hunter’s lip curled up in one corner, and Brooks couldn’t tell if it was
a smile or a sneer. “You’re not a one-man man.”

Hunter stepped out of his door fully. He kept a foot between them,

but stood close enough Brooks knew his nearness was an invitation.

Player and the Prude

“Don’t you wanna still fuck around?” Hunter glanced down

Brooks’s front, his gaze assessing. “I wouldn’t tell your giant.”

“You know I don’t wanna.” Brooks forced himself to hold his

ground, even though he wanted to step away.

“But you’ll sleep with that dork?” Hunter gestured out toward

campus with a jerk of his head.

Brooks shoved his chest, pushing Hunter off him with enough

force that Hunter’s breath rushed out. “Shut the fuck up about my
boyfriend.” When Hunter took a step forward, Brooks pushed him
again, this time harder, so that Hunter stumbled off balance and had to
grab the railing not to fall.

Hunter regained his footing with a slow calmness that bordered on

scary.  He  crossed  his  arms  and  leaned  back  against  the  railing,
smirking.  “You’re  not  being  very  persuasive  about  New  York  in
July.”  He knocked some imaginary dirt off his hands. “I don’t think
I’ll be coming out after all, Price.”

“Fuck you.” Brooks wanted to tear Hunter limb from limb, but

knew it would end up hurting him more than it did Hunter. Some guys
were  untouchable.  His  mother  had  always  told  him  that.  And  there
was  a time when all  Brooks had  wanted was to  be untouchable, too.
Well, now he knew better.

“I don’t want you anywhere near my house or my family.” Brooks

thought about it, considering that they lived next door to each other.
“Come to think about it, I don’t want you anywhere near me, either.”

“Hmm.” Hunter looked at Brooks’s door and how it was located

not five feet from his own. “How are you gonna swing that?”

Brooks took a step forward, enough they wouldn’t be overheard,

not even if the team was right inside Hunter’s door, listening in. “If
you don’t leave me alone, I’ll leak pictures on the internet of you
getting blown at that Eta Xi party last year.”

“Like that would matter,” Hunter said. But his eyes flickered

nervously. He was out to his family, and on campus. But as the son of
a senator, he was always at risk of being brought down by a scandal.

Daisy Harris

“Try me.” Brooks hated using Hunter’s homosexuality as a

weapon. But Hunter wielded sex like a tool, using it to control and
hurt people—so it was only payback. Brooks was done being
Hunter’s bitch.

Hunter narrowed his eyes, but gave a little nod. “Fine. Like I

wanted to hang out with you or your loser boyfriend anyway.” He
stepped to his door, and then slammed it shut as he disappeared
inside.

Brooks went back into his apartment and fell onto the couch. He

seethed, staring at  the  wall between his  apartment  and Hunter’s.  But
after  a  moment’s  consideration,  Brooks  bounced  up  and  grabbed
some water from the kitchen. Just being so close to his window pissed
him  off,  and  he  shut  the  thing  lest  he  hear  some  stray  bit  of
conversation.

Brooks grabbed his phone. One-handed, he texted Matt.
Had it out w Hunter. Sorry I made u mad. Come back?
He settled onto the couch, watching his screen for a telltale blue

box. But none arrived. He gave it a little longer, even turning on the
TV and scrolling through a few channels. But after half an hour,
Brooks admitted to himself that Matt wasn’t going to text him back.

“Well, that sucks.” Brooks trudged into his room and stared at the

piles of practice tests and the homework fanned under those. He
should study. He should do a lot of things, but he couldn’t leave
things the way they were with Matt. Not even for the night.

Grabbing a sweatshirt off his chair, Brooks decided to head over

to Matt’s house. He shoved his wallet and his phone in his pocket and
hurried out of his apartment and down the steps before his neighbor
would have a chance to hear him passing.

The air was cool and fresh, and Brooks jogged instead of walking.

He bounced for a block or so before running in earnest. The pavement
felt good under his feet—hard and sure. His muscles sang with the
exertion, working off his anger at Hunter, at himself. When sweat
bloomed under his clothes, he dragged off his sweatshirt, and then his

Player and the Prude

T-shirt as well. He hoped that showing off his body would distract
Matt from their fight.

He neared Matt’s house right as Matt’s roommate Sarah was

opening the door.

When she saw Brooks on the landing, she stopped short. “Oh, hey.

You here for Matt?” She’d met Brooks a few times when he and Matt
stopped by the house between classes.

“Yeah. He here?” Brooks kept his face angled in the porch light so

she wouldn’t see he was upset.

“Yeah, he’s inside.” Sarah bounced down the steps. “I was gonna

head to the Sappho house party tonight. You guys wanna come?”

“I’d forgotten about it.” Brooks was shocked. Normally, he knew

the schedule of every party on campus, especially the GLBT ones. It
was weird how he’d lost track of stuff like that. “But no. It’s late. Just
wanted to see Matt.” He jogged up her steps and checked the door,
which was unlocked. That was good—he wouldn’t have to count on
Matt to let him inside.

He closed the door quietly behind him. Brooks almost hoped Matt

was asleep. That way he could climb in behind him and snuggle while
Matt was calm and quiet. They’d never spent the night together, and
Brooks wanted to so badly that he thought he might die if he couldn’t,
especially after their fight.

On quiet feet, Brooks crept down the hall. Then he eased down

the handle and cracked the door to peek at Matt’s bed. He didn’t see
anyone. “Matt?” He opened the door and stepped through.

Someone grabbed him and slammed him face-first into the wall.

The air rushed out of him, and his cheek burned from the scrape of
plaster.

“What the fuck?” Brooks struggled, knowing it must be Matt

holding him, but unable to do anything with Matt’s weight against his
back and Matt’s hand pressed against his skull.

Daisy Harris

“Brooks?” Matt released him with enough force to send Brooks

sailing onto the mattress. “What in the hell are you doing breaking
into my house?”

“The door was open.” Brooks rolled onto his back, trying to get

upright, but then Matt was on top of him, as if the heat and excitement
of grabbing Brooks was too much and he couldn’t stand to break their
connection.

“I could have killed you.” Matt scanned his face, like he was

searching for some kind of answer. But his eyes landed on the scrape
on Brooks’s cheek. “Shit. I can’t believe I did that.” But he didn’t
climb off. Instead, he thrust himself forward, as if he couldn’t get
enough of their closeness. Like the damage to Brooks’s skin got him
hot.

“M’okay.” Brooks’s cheekbone throbbed, but he wrapped his legs

around Matt, making sure his boyfriend couldn’t pull away. The idea
that he was wearing Matt’s mark on his face got Brooks so horny he
could barely breathe. “Fuck, man. Do me.”

For a split second, Matt looked like he was going to argue. His

jaw clenched, as if he was thinking. But then his eyelids dropped to
half lidded. “God, you bring out the worst in me.” He locked lips with
Brooks, crushing their mouths together in a harsh grind.

Their teeth clashed, and their tongues wrangled. Brooks ripped at

Matt’s shirt, dragging it over his head. Then he scored his nails down
Matt’s front, hard enough that Matt winced and grabbed Brooks’s
wrists and yanked them over his head.

“C’mon.” Brooks’s body sang to life, his cock pulsing hard

through his pants, and he felt Matt right there with him. He scissored
his legs over Matt’s sweatpants, trying to get them down.

In a burst of movement, Matt bounded off the bed and shoved off

his sweats and briefs. Then he ripped at Brooks’s clothes, tearing
seams to get them from Brooks’s body. Before Matt could fall on him
again, Brooks flipped onto his stomach.

Player and the Prude

“No,” Matt gasped. But he landed right where Brooks had wanted

him,  so  that  his  cock  pressed  into  Brooks’s  crack  and  his  hairy  legs
wound  between  Brooks’s  smoother  ones.  Matt  ground  into  him,  a
thick weight in his crease.

“God, I don’t know.” Matt’s body was two steps ahead of his

mind, because he wrapped a hand to Brooks’s front, gripping
Brooks’s cock, and stroking him in rough pulls.

Brooks crawled as best he could with Matt on top of him up to the

bedside table. Before Matt could argue, he dug out the lube and
condoms they’d been keeping there until they felt ready.

In a moment of hesitation from Matt, Brooks saw his chance and

he flipped onto his back. Then, tossing a leg over Matt’s hips, he
hauled them over—so he could straddle Matt’s torso and take control.

“Oh, God, oh, God.” Matt gripped Brooks’s hips. His cock

slapped  at  Brooks’s  back.  He  pinched  his  eyes  closed,  like  he  was
struggling  for  control.  But  Brooks  didn’t  want  to  give  him  any.  He
wanted Matt to just let it go—to do his worst and make Brooks thank
him for it after.

Brooks filled his hand with lube and reached behind to rub it into

his ass. Then with hurrying fingers, he rolled the condom onto Matt’s
cock and lifted to get it at his entrance.

“Brooks—” Matt shook his head in warning.
But Brooks didn’t heed. He took one relaxing breath and forced

himself down over the head of Matt’s cock. He shivered, wishing he’d
turned the lights out. His eyes were tearing from the stretch of it, and
he didn’t want Matt to know. Didn’t want to give him an excuse to
back down. He stroked his dick, feeling the hard weight of it in his
hand, the delicious feel of Matt invading him—just the tip filling him
wide.

Matt released a long breath—like a growl. His gaze was

determined as he pulled Brooks lower, dragging his hips down and
down. If he noticed Brooks’s discomfort, he didn’t seem to care. Or
maybe it just turned him on.

Daisy Harris

“Wait…” Brooks pressed his hands on Matt’s chest, holding

himself up. Matt was huge, and Brooks regretted having started this
on his knees. “Can I get on my back?”

Matt nodded, but that serious expression never left his eyes. His

gaze bore into Brooks as he gently rotated them so that Brooks was on
his back. They disengaged in the process. When Brooks’s muscles
stopped protesting, he was about to say thanks, but Matt was on top of
him, his expression intent, and his cock forcing past Brooks’s rim.

“Slow…” Brooks tried to explain, but he wasn’t sure how much

Matt understood, because he just kept coming and coming, his cock
bigger than Brooks had remembered from when it was in his mouth.
Brooks hissed, trying not to wince. “I haven’t done it in a while.”
Still, his cock pulsed hard between their bodies.

Matt lifted onto his elbows. Fully seated in Brooks’s ass, he

looked down, studying Brooks’s face. He ran a thumb over the bruise
on Brooks’s cheek, his expression almost reverent. It was so intense
that Brooks opened his mouth to say something. But Matt rubbed
Brooks’s lips like he was wiping the words away.

“Sh…” Matt tucked his hips back, pulling almost all the way out,

then  slid  home.  Before  Brooks  could  breathe,  he  did  it  again,  and
again.  What  Matt  lacked  in  finesse,  he  more  than  made  up  for  with
enthusiasm. He fucked like a steam engine, a nonstop, grunting grind.

It seared Brooks from the inside—almost too intense, but the pain

so  sweet  he  didn’t  want  it  to  stop.  Matt  muttered  obscenities  the
whole time, calling  Brooks a slut and a whore, saying he hated him.
But  the words  were like the sex—raw intensity.  Brooks  felt filled to
overflowing with Matt’s cock, with his emotions. When, after a series
of  lightning-fast  thrusts,  Matt  went  still  and  shot  inside  him,  Brooks
felt  like  he  was  absorbing  all  of  it—Matt’s  love  and  even  his  hate.
Brooks wanted both, because maybe he deserved it, and maybe Matt
just needed to let it out.

Player and the Prude

Shivering, Matt lifted off Brooks’s body. He took only a second to

disengage and toss the condom, but then he climbed onto the bed,
between Brooks’s legs, and took Brooks into his mouth.

Brooks thrust up, bucking off the mattress. His orgasm was so

close he could taste it in his throat. And as his cock filled with cum,
he felt an answering ache in his ass, like Matt was still fucking him.
So sweet, he wanted to feel it forever.

“Oh, yeah. So goo—”
Matt shoved two fingers inside him, too roughly to be meant as

anything but “shut the fuck up.” But that was okay, because he
swallowed Brooks almost to the hilt, his mouth warm and perfect, and
his tongue ringing Brooks’s crown on every upswing.

Brooks bit his lip, trying to keep quiet. He writhed, gripping the

sheets,  his  dick  so  full  it  felt  like  the  skin  was  too  tight.  Matt
murmured  and  hummed,  the  sound  of  it  soothing,  as  if  he  were
saying,  “Go  on.”  And  Brooks  arched,  gasping  a  small  cry.  His  dick
pulsed.  Then  his  cock  was  bathed  in  his  cum,  even  hotter  because  it
filled Matt’s mouth like a chalice.

Moaning, Matt nursed him all the way to flaccid. He ran his hands

up and down Brooks’s thighs the whole time, like he was petting and
coaxing the last of Brooks’s climax. Afterward, he laid his head on
Brooks’s hip and wrapped his arms around his waist, like a kid
begging something from a parent.

“I’m so sorry,” Matt whispered.
For a second, Brooks couldn’t answer. He’d been trying to stay

quiet  for  so  long  he  had  to  clear  his  throat  to  get  out  a  word.  “For
what?”  He  scooted  down  a  bit,  trying  to  drag  Matt  higher.  It  didn’t
work all that well since Matt was a lot bigger than he was, but Brooks
managed.  He  checked  Matt’s  expression,  trying  to  figure  out  what
was wrong.

“Um, for slamming you into the wall, first off. Then practically

raping you…” Matt lowered his eyebrows thunderously, like an angry
Viking. The look on his face clashed with his blush.

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Brooks rolled his eyes. “You didn’t rape me.” Yeah, he was sore,

and probably would be for a while. But he’d loved every second. “I
was the one who jumped on top of you, remember?”

Matt shrugged, looking thoroughly miserable.
“And you didn’t do this to my face on purpose.”
“Yeah.” Matt shifted up to sitting. He scanned Brooks’s face, his

body. “But I liked it…”

Brooks pulled Matt’s blanket over himself, a little uncomfortable

at how closely Matt was studying him. “I liked it, too.”

“Really?” Matt got under the blanket, too. He cuddled into

Brooks’s side, wrapping his arms around him like he never wanted to
let go.

“Yes. And I told Hunter I wasn’t going to be friends with him

anymore.” He touched his cheek, thinking maybe he should put an ice
pack on it. Brooks knew he’d have a bruise the next day, and he
didn’t want Matt to feel guilty.

“I’m sorry.” Matt rolled Brooks toward him, cradling him in his

arms. He kissed Brooks’s neck, then the side of his head.

“No worries. I was sick of his shit anyway.” Brooks paused,

wondering how much to tell Matt. But he settled on the truth. “I knew
he thought we had something going. I should have told him to back
off a long time ago.”

“S’okay. You did now.”
“So, do you forgive me?”
Matt sighed. “Yeah.”
Brooks rolled onto his side, looking Matt full in the face. He

couldn’t do this anymore—the dancing around, Matt finding excuses
for why they couldn’t be happy. “Then what’s the problem?”

Anger flashed in Matt’s eyes, but only for a second. After that, he

rubbed his face, his sadness returning. “I might not have meant to
leave that mark on your cheek. But Brooks—it turned me on so
much.” Matt pinched his forehead between his thumb and forefinger,
rubbing his temples. “That’s so messed up.”

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101

“Dude.” Brooks gave him a shove. Hard enough Matt would feel

his strength. “I’m a big, strong guy. You’re not going to really hurt
me.” Then, despite Matt’s sulky mood, he added, “Unless I want you
to.” Brooks made sure to give him a lusty, unmistakable wink.

Matt peeked at him from under his hand, his fingers still woven in

his hair. “You really don’t hate that about me.”

“What, that you get a little rough in bed?”
Matt shrugged. “I guess. If that’s what you call it.” He winced, as

if he would have called it something less complimentary than rough.

Brooks gave him another push, watching the way Matt bounced

back, testing his strength. He needed Matt to understand—Brooks
wasn’t the weaker party between them, not in bed or out. “Have you
ever seen a lacrosse match?”

“No. Maybe once on TV, but not really.”
Brooks gave him a smile—a huge one. “You should come see

mine. Seriously. If you saw how some of those assholes check, you’d
never worry about a little bump on the cheek.” To underline his point,
Brooks reached around and smacked Matt on the butt—less hard than
Matt had hit him earlier, but enough so Matt would get the idea that it
was all in good fun.

“Hey.” Matt swatted Brooks’s hand away. But then he pulled

Brooks into a giant hug. “Stop it, you’re gonna get me hard again.”

But Brooks only smiled into Matt’s shoulder. He was getting hard

again already, and he could feel Matt’s cock plumping against his leg.
He whispered, “That’s all I ever wanted to do.”

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Chapter Ten

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Matt looked out the window

of Brooks’s car as they curved off the highway and into the state park.
He’d only brought one camera, since this was technically a scouting
expedition. Or maybe a date. But Matt still wondered what Brooks
thought he was going to be doing while Matt crouched in the mud.

“Yeah, sure. I brought books in case I get bored.”
It was true—Brooks’s bag filled the corner of the backseat, full to

bursting with papers and workbooks.

“I guess.” The side road led off to a series of parking lots, all with

ferns and evergreens crowded along the sides. Brooks chose the
farthest one to park in and pulled between a couple of cars, even
though the rest of the lot was empty.

Matt cracked open his door, trying not to hit the sedan next to

them. He hoped he’d have enough room to get out. “Why’d you park
between the only two cars in the lot?” He tentatively put his foot on
the ground outside and twisted sideways.

“Prowlers, man. State parks are full of ’em.”
“Huh.” Matt managed to ooze out his door, though he wasn’t sure

how he was going to get his equipment out of the backseat. “I guess
that makes sense.”

“’Course it does. Who’s gonna squeeze in here just to steal a

stereo?” The slightly thinner Brooks turned sideways and maneuvered
out his side. Then he popped the trunk and lifted the divider on the
hatchback to reach into the backseat. “Here.” He handed Matt the
heavy pack full of the school’s camera. Then, more easily, he grabbed
his own bag.

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103

“Why didn’t you unpack before you pulled into the space?” Matt

cracked a smile, enjoying picking apart Brooks’s plan.

Brooks frowned. “Oh, yeah.”
Matt grabbed his hand and pulled him closer. There was no one

around, so he pecked a kiss on Brooks’s cheek. “You’re funny.”

“Jerk.” Brooks bumped into his side, a good-natured push.
“Maybe, but you’re gonna back outta that spot before I try to get

in  again.”  Matt  shouldered  into  his  side  with  a  playful  wrestle.  He
loved  how  solid  Brooks  was,  and  how  he  smelled  up  close—rough
and a little dirty. Just like always, Matt’s cock took notice and started
filling,  but  Matt  had  gained  enough  control  to  pull  away  and  calm
himself down.

“We gonna go find these turtles?” Brooks let Matt go, grinning

like he knew perfectly well why Matt had pulled away. “Or do you
want a quick blow job first?”

God, Matt loved him. “No. I think I can hold out until after.” He

adjusted himself inside his jeans, smiling because he realized he was
wearing Brooks’s boxer briefs underneath. Over time, Brooks seemed
to have outfitted Matt in more and more of his clothes.

“Whatever you say, hon.” Brooks leaned in for a quick kiss, but

then set off for the trailhead. His strides bounced, and he fed his arms
through his backpack. Matt knew he didn’t hike much, and his
enthusiasm was really cute.

“The pond is about three miles.” Matt followed behind, enjoying

the view. Brooks was wearing a pair of black track pants and one of
his signature tank tops. This one was looser than normal, apparently
his attempt to be low-key off campus.

“No worries.” The way Brooks hurried, Matt wondered if he

wanted to set off running. Matt had been wondering if Brooks would
be able to handle the hike. He should have remembered how the guy
jogged every day. “That’s not so far.”

The lowlands were dark from the overhang of trees, and ferns

filled the gaps between muddy slicks. But as they gained altitude, the

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trees  thinned.  Bushes,  patches  of  grass,  and  flowers  filled  sunny
fields.  Finally,  the  trail  led  alongside  a  pond  where  rushes  brushed
dew  onto  Matt’s  and  Brooks’s  ankles.  Out  in  the  sunshine,  it  was
warm,  so  Brooks  took  off  his  shirt  altogether,  revealing  a  gleaming
back before putting back on his backpack.

“This should be good.” Matt slowed, looking around. It was the

same spot he’d shot most of the footage he already had—a small
outcropping of the lake, shallow and rocky enough that the turtles
could climb in and out of the water easily.

He set down his bag. “It’s dry over there.” Matt nodded to where a

flat boulder rose a few feet out of the grassy mud. Big enough for a
couple people to sit on, though just barely. That was where Matt had
laid his equipment during the long hours of his original shoot.

“Okay.” Brooks unpacked his stuff—a water bottle, a jacket,

which he laid on the rock, his books. Then he settled down, leaning
back on his palms, sunning under the wide Vermont sky. “Man, nice
day.”

“Yeah.” Matt smiled at him. He wanted nothing more than to go

sit next to Brooks and kiss him, maybe take him up on that blow job
he’d been offering. But he had work to do. “Let’s hope the weather
holds up.” He squinted at the sun, knowing it would really be better to
be shooting at sunrise or sunset. But the turtles only came out to warm
themselves on sunny days. Trying to catch one in the rain would be a
lot harder.

He rifled through his bag, smelling the loam and earth around

him, watching the gentle waving of grass in the breeze. The wind
even carried a hint of Brooks—sweaty and happy, and just waiting for
when Matt would be done.

“Screw it.” Matt couldn’t resist the draw of him. He stepped over

a fern to get to the rock and crawled on next to Brooks. The surface
was uneven, biting into his ass and scratching his hands, but Brooks
was smooth and warm next to him, and Matt leaned in for a kiss.

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105

Their lips met on a breath. Matt held back, letting Brooks take the

lead, feeling  Brooks’s tongue probing his  mouth, his  teeth  on  Matt’s
lips and then on Matt’s chin.  Brooks  grabbed Matt behind  the neck,
dragging  him  in  harder—so  much  so  it  was  as  if  he  wanted  Matt  to
fight back.

Matt grabbed Brooks’s hand, pulled it down his body to his groin,

forced Brooks’s palm open over his cock. Then he did the same to
Brooks, rubbing through his pants, reaching lower to grope in his
crease, then sliding back to his dick again.

“What do you want to do?” Brooks gasped between kisses. He

tunneled his hand under Matt’s waistband.

With Brooks’s fist closing around him, Matt struggled to answer.

Still, he managed to gasp out, “I want you to fuck me.”

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Chapter Eleven

Brooks paused, his hand still on Matt’s cock, and his lips poised at

Matt’s jaw. “Really?”

They hadn’t had sex since that first time, other than rubbing off

together. But Matt had looked at a lot of the websites and felt like he
understood better what to do. Still, he needed to know what it was
like. And for some reason, he needed Brooks to know he was on
board for whatever Brooks needed.

“Yeah. Really.” Matt scanned their side of the lake, making sure

no one was around. They’d come up a seldom-used path, and it was
noon on a Wednesday. The chances anyone would happen across
them were slim to none. “I’ve been reading about it and want to give
it a try.” His cock gave a little desperate lurch in Brooks’s hand, and
Matt arched up, feeling the scrap of rock at his back.

Brooks nipped his way down Matt’s chest, dragging up his shirt as

he went. “Never look a gift horse in the mouth,” he muttered. In a fit
of excitement, he dragged Matt’s shirt off and fumbled with the front
of his pants.

Matt had never been gladder to be wearing sweatpants. He slid

forward off the rock as Brooks did the same. The two of them landed
with  a  thunk,  grappling  with  each  other’s  shoulders,  rubbing  down
each  other’s  pants.  Brooks  grabbed  Matt’s  ass,  dragging  him  close
and  grinding  their  cocks  together  through  their  clothes.  All  around
them, the trees shook with wind, and the sound of the highway in the
distance filled the air with a low, humming roar.

Brooks spun Matt around and then yanked his pants to his knees.

He rubbed his hand up between Matt’s legs—rubbing at his balls,

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107

massaging his taint, thumbing his rim. And even though no one had
ever done that to him—even Matt hadn’t played with his ass, it felt
perfect. Because it was Brooks, and they were outdoors under nothing
but sky, the crisp air and warm sun on their skin. And it didn’t matter
what they were doing to make love.

“You are damn lucky I always come prepared.” Brooks reached

past Matt to his backpack and pulled out a few foiled packs. Matt bent
and braced himself on the rock, smelling dust and minerals, the cool
granite in his hands.

“Damn, you are so hot. I wanna take a picture in case you’re never

up for this again.”

Matt craned his neck around for a kiss. Their mouths met roughly.

Matt  gasped  when  Brooks’s  touch  found  his  asshole  and  he  pressed
inside.  “Oh,  I’ll  be  up  for  it  again.”  Matt  pushed  with  his  hands,
forcing Brooks’s finger deeper, and also making sure his waving dick
didn’t scrape on the rock. He felt filthy—covered in sweat, dirt on his
hands,  and  his  pants  at  his  ankles,  but  nothing  had  ever  felt  more
right.

Brooks rubbed his back, massaging while he fingered Matt open.

His dick slapped wetly on the back of Matt’s thigh. Another finger—a
small pinch, and then Matt was arching and twisting. It hurt, but
turned him on. Matt reached for his cock, trusting his other hand to
hold him away from the rocks, and jerked in slow pulls in time with
Brooks’s touch.

“Okay.” Brooks pulled away and Matt heard the rip of foil, the

scroll of a condom. Then the slide of Brooks’s cock in Matt’s crease.
It was slippery, as if Brooks had added tons of lube. The feel of all the
warm wetness was enough for Matt to need to come—now.

“C’mon.” He pressed back—angry, insistent, wanting something

to tear up his insides and make him whole again. Maybe Matt wanted
to be hurt. But that didn’t matter so long as it got him off.

Brooks reared back, fit his cockhead to Matt’s body, and shoved

forward.

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The rush of it knocked the wind out of Matt, lit him up like a

firecracker of nerve endings. Matt buried his face in his forearm,
shouting into his skin. And when Brooks dragged back, almost all the
way, he growled out the feeling—frantically jerking off.

“Fuck.” Matt’s jaw hung low on Brooks’s next thrust. It was long

and slow, with a twist at the end. Brooks seemed to know the perfect
angle and tempo. Slut that he was. But damn, Matt had to admit it was
good.

Brooks stroked his sides, then grabbed Matt’s hips, riding him

hard until  Matt  thought  his  knees  would buckle. Whether he tried to
push back or rear away, Brooks held Matt steady and pulsed deep and
hard  right  into  his  guts.  And  even  though  Matt  had  given  up  on
rubbing  off—just  held  onto  the  rock  for  dear  life—his  belly  twisted
into  a  knot  and  his  groin  tensed.  Cum  filled  his  sack  and  his  dick,
and—biting his arm to stop from screaming—he shot spurt after spurt
onto the rock.

He hadn’t finished when Brooks pulled out, slapping his dick on

Matt’s back. Brooks must have pulled off the condom, because Matt
felt the warm wetness of Brooks coming on his tailbone, then the
delicious rub of Brooks thrusting his half-hard dick through his
puddle.

“Hell, yeah,” Brooks said. He rubbed his forehead between Matt’s

shoulder blades. Then he grabbed his shirt out of his pack and used it
to wipe Matt up.

“Fuck.” Matt twisted around, pulling his pants up and Brooks into

his arms at the same time. Every part of him felt alive—so damn hot
and sexy and real. He crushed Brooks to his chest, mixing their sweat.

“Look at you, cursing like a sailor.” Brooks’s gaze was sultry and

mellow. “I’ll turn you into a tramp in no time.”

Matt grabbed his face with both hands, pulling him into a kiss.

Brooks’s pants were still open at the front, though he’d pulled them
up. Matt fed his hands down to cup his ass and pull him closer.
“Maybe.” Matt bent his knees to nuzzle Brooks’s neck. He was most

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109

of the way soft, but could tell he would get hard again in a few
minutes. And he wanted to top next. “You’re a terrible influence.” He
turned to get Brooks’s back to the rock. “Gonna send me straight to
hell.”

* * * *

That summer…

Brooks snuck peeks at Matt’s face as the jitney pulled through

Bridgehampton and streamed east. Matt looked a cross between
terrified and horrified, but Brooks was just happy to be getting out of
the sweltering Manhattan heat for the week.

“Is that really a horse show?” Matt nodded out the window to a

giant field filled with tents and trailers.

“The setup for one, yeah. They’d have to be crazy to schedule the

Hampton Open for Fourth of July weekend, though.”  Brooks spotted
a  sign  for  the  event  and  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  “See,  it’s  next
weekend.” The traffic on the south shore of Long Island would be bad
enough  on  the  holiday  weekend  without  the  added  strain  of  another
event.

“Are you really sure about this?” Matt asked for the tenth time

since they boarded the bus a few blocks from their summer sublet in
the city.

“Of course. You hate Manhattan.” He clasped hands with Matt

low between their seats. The bus was plush, with cushioned seats, air
conditioning, and fold-down trays like on an airplane. So no one
would notice them holding hands.

And even if they did, half the bus was gay men.
“I don’t hate it so much.” Matt rubbed his thumb over Brooks’s

palm. “And I’m learning a ton at my internship.”

Brooks twined their fingers further. He hated to think about how,

at the end of summer, Matt would have to go back to Vermont and do

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his junior year at Holsum while Brooks would be stuck in New York
at  his  job.  “I’m  glad.”  He  leaned  over  and  pecked  a  kiss  on  Matt’s
cheek.  And  though  Matt  looked  around  with  a  panicked  expression
for  a  moment,  he  settled  down  a  lot  faster  than  he  had  when  he  and
Brooks had started going out.

“I just hope the director puts in a good word for me.” Matt

watched out the window as a pond full of ducks and swans came into
sight. “It would be great to get transferred to NYU.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Brooks smiled at the waddling duck

followed by a trail of ducklings. He knew Matt was itching to get off
the bus and film them. “Either they’ll let you transfer in or they won’t.
There’s an airport outside Montpelier. I could see you every other
weekend.”

Matt chuckled. “Talk about expensive.”
“Yeah, good thing I’m in banking.” Brooks grinned, knowing he

was jutting out his chin a little. He loved that he earned enough
money to pay for their rent in New York City and take care of Matt,
since Matt didn’t earn anything at his summer internship. Sure, Matt
had given him shit about it at first. But in the end, Brooks liked being
needed, and Matt liked making Brooks happy.

“That’s a lot of money to spend on a boyfriend. Sure you won’t

just decide to find a different one?” Matt said it like he was joking,
but Brooks knew Matt was serious.

“You know I want you to be more than my boyfriend.” Brooks

looked at where their hands were clasped together. He’d been trying
to prod Matt towards an engagement since his graduation—knowing
that with Matt’s upbringing, Matt wouldn’t feel settled until they were
legally married.

Why Matt was still saying no was a mystery.
Matt looked out the window for a long moment, but then he

turned around and pinned Brooks with a stare. Under his breath, so no
one else on the bus could hear them, he said, “Brooks Price, you

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111

know I don’t finish school for a couple of years. But—will you marry
me?”

Brooks blinked, knowing his mouth was hanging open. “I’ve

asked you three times already.” Laughter bubbled up in his chest, but
it was tinged with confusion. Of course Brooks wanted to get
engaged. That’s why he’d proposed practically once a week lately.

“Yeah.” Matt rolled his eyes. “But that doesn’t count.”
“You are so weird.” Brooks leaned in and pecked a kiss on Matt’s

mouth, thrilled when Matt didn’t pull away. Against Matt’s lips, he
whispered. “Sure, I’ll marry you. You big freak.”

The road curved around and neared the town of East Hampton

proper—all  lined  with  white-fronted  designer  boutiques.  As  the  bus
drew  to  a  stop,  Brooks  felt  his  first  thrill  of  his  own  nerves.  He
spotted his mom’s  Land Rover parked in the pickup zone, and for a
second,  Brooks  wanted  to  stay  on  the  bus  all  the  way  to  the  tip  of
Long  Island.  “Listen,  just  warning  you—do  not  take  anything  my
mom says seriously. Or my dad, for that matter.”

Matt lowered his eyebrows, his expression worried. “Why? What

are they going to say?”

“Just…” Brooks stared past Matt, out the window, to where his

mother was getting out of her car. She was a vision with her frosted
highlights and sunglasses. When her eyes met Brooks’s, she frowned.
“Just, don’t take anything personally, okay?”

“Okay.” Matt stood from his seat, crouching partly since he was

the one by the window and the bins overhead didn’t allow him to
reach full height.

Brooks slid out of his seat and bustled into the center aisle, where

passengers were filing out of the bus. He grabbed his bag off the
overhead shelf and pressed through the crush of people until he
climbed down the steps and out into the leafy shade of the bus stop.

He felt Matt at his back, hard and solid. And, unfortunately,

pushing him right in the direction of his mother.

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Daisy Harris

“Brooks!” She stepped toward them, flashing her million-dollar

smile. “How was your trip?” She didn’t make any move to
acknowledge Matt or address him, so Brooks stepped to the side and
gestured to his boyfriend.

“It was fine. Mom, this is Matthew Porter. He goes by Matt. And

Matt—this is my mother.”

“You can call me Barbara.” She held out a hand stiffly.
“Nice to meet you.” Matt shook her hand as if it might bite him,

which looked pretty funny considering she was almost a foot shorter
than him. Granted, her shoes alone probably cost more than a month
of their rent, so Brooks could see how Matt would be intimidated.

“So.” His mom turned back to Brooks. “Sorry your other friend

couldn’t make it.”

Brooks ignored her comment, grabbing his and Matt’s suitcase out

of the pile being unloaded by the driver. He carried it over to his
mom’s car, giving Matt an apologetic grimace along the way.

“Hunter was busy,” he lied. “And anyway, there’s only one

bedroom in the guest cottage.”

The three of them climbed into the car with Brooks and his

mother in front, and Matt a quiet presence in the backseat. His mother
turned  to  head  for  the  bay,  prattling  nonstop  about  the  weather,  and
her friends, and the plans she’d made for all of them for the weekend.
What Matt thought about it all,  Brooks had no idea. But as his mom
pulled into the curved driveway in front of their house, he found it all
too  much  to  handle.  The  crunch  of  the  gravel  under  the  wheels
sounded  like  a  death  knell,  and  if  he  didn’t  say  something  at  that
moment,  Brooks  knew  he’d  get  dragged  around  all  weekend,  being
talked over and Matt being ignored. And Brooks couldn’t handle that
happening. It was his and Matt’s vacation, too.

“Mom?”
She paused, her hands still on the steering wheel. His mom put the

car into park. “Yes, Brooks?” The tilt of her head made it seem like

Player and the Prude

113

she was genuinely interested, though the tight set of her mouth was a
warning.

Brooks felt himself shrinking into the leather seat. “Um. I thought

you should know that Matt and I are engaged.”  It was only then that
Brooks realized it wasn’t  just Matt who needed the completeness  of
marriage. Brooks needed it, too.

“What?” His mother stared at him for a long moment, like he’d

just grown another head. “You and who?”

Matt snickered in the backseat, and Brooks’s mother turned

around and looked at him. Even with her sunglasses on, Brooks could
tell that her eyes were getting wider, as if on some level she’d only
just realized Matt was sitting there. It was as if he materialized for her
only in the moment when she realized he might actually affect her
life.

“My name is Matt.” Matt leaned forward in his seat, holding out

his hand for Barbara to shake. “Matt Porter. We met before, back at
the bus stop.”

Barbara didn’t catch his joke, because she stared at his hand for a

full three seconds before she reached over to shake it. “Um…” She
darted a glance at Brooks. “Really?”

Brooks nodded, a smile stretching his mouth. He’d never seen his

mother at a loss for words before. It was pretty funny.

However, it was a short-lived victory, because his mother blinked

a  recovery,  swiping  her  sunglasses  off  her  face  and  gripping  Matt’s
hand in a firm handshake. Very much like the budding politician she
was. “Of course, Matt. I hope you’ll enjoy staying here at the house.”
Her  eyes  lit  up  manically,  even  before  she  let  go  of  his  hand,  and
Barbara  swung  her  attention  around  to  Brooks  so  quickly  he
wondered  if  she’d  get  whiplash.  “Could  you  announce  this  at  the
party?”

“Which party?” Brooks’s mind reeled. Fourth of July in the

Hamptons was a whirlwind of social events, and his mother had just
listed ten in the past five minutes.

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Daisy Harris

“Our party!” She threw up her hands, as if everyone in the car, if

not the world, should have known exactly what she was talking about.
“You should announce your engagement. There’ll be press there. And
can you imagine? My son, getting gay married? It’ll be the news of
the season. I’ve got to make some calls—” She threw open her door
and stepped outside. Without even looking back in their direction, she
waved a careless hand. “You can get settled in the guest house
yourself, right? I’ve got so much to do.”

“Okay, Mom.” Brooks got out of the car, breathing a sigh of relief

not to be in her line of attention any longer. He grimaced at Matt, who
was unfolding himself from the back of the car.

Matt leaned into his side and mumbled, “What just happened?”
Brooks shook his head. “I think our engagement just got outed.”
The door of the house opened, and Brooks’s mother poked her

head through the crack in the door. “Brooks, would you be a dear and
send me all of your friend’s information for the press release?”

“Sure thing, Mom.” Brooks worried Matt would be offended that

his mother still obviously hadn’t figured out what his name was, but
when he checked Matt’s expression, he found that Matt was holding a
hand over his mouth, his eyes watering on a laugh.

“She’s pretty terrible, I know.” Brooks opened the back door of

the car so Matt could pull out their suitcase.

Matt hauled it out and started following Brooks around the side of

the house to where his mother kept guests she didn’t much want to
see. “I dunno. She’s just a little self-involved.”

Brooks laughed. “A little?”
They rounded the garage and tromped across the wide backyard

lawn  toward  the  guest  house  at  the  edge  of  the  bay.  Matt  caught  his
arm  and  pulled  Brooks  into  a  rough  hug.  He  kissed  Brooks’s  mouth
with  a  quick  brush  of  lips  and  a  slight  scrape  of  stubble.  Then  he
whispered against Brooks’s lips, “Yeah. Just a teeny, tiny bit.”

* * * *

Player and the Prude

115

Matt tried not to gawp too much when the guests started filing in

for  the  Prices’  Fourth  of  July  party.  He  stood  in  his  awkward
seersucker  suit  that  Brooks  had  forced  him  to  wear,  trying  to  gulp
down  a  beer.  The  back  patio  was  still  empty,  with  Brooks  inside
talking  to  his  mother’s  friends.  Past  the  windows,  caterers  arranged
plates and frantically moved trays from the Prices’ stack of ovens to a
series of chafing dishes laid out in the enormous dining room.

The whole house was lit from within, but still, the Long Island sky

was beautiful overhead. Brooks’s house was right on the water, and at
night in their room, Matt heard the clanking of boats in the nearby
marina. Of course, Matt couldn’t hear it at that moment, since music
and talking were filtering through from the open sliding doors.

Brooks appeared at one of those doors, easing open the screen.

“Hey, you okay out here?” He walked across the candlelit courtyard,
wearing a crisp white shirt under a pale blue jacket, his eyes bright
and excited against his tan skin. And he was so handsome Matt
thought his heart might stop beating.

“I don’t know,” Matt answered honestly. He glanced inside at all

the people he didn’t know. On the one hand, who cared if people he
didn’t know knew he and Brooks were planning to get married? But
on the other hand, they hadn’t told hardly anyone yet. And this was a
big step.

“C’mon.” Brooks snatched his hands and pulled Matt across the

lawn  toward  the  guest  house.  It  was  tiny  compared  to  the  majestic
main  house—just  a  couple  rooms  smelling  of  salt  water  and  sand.
When  they’d  cleared  the  screen  door,  Brooks  pulled  him  to  the
bedroom and fell on top of him on the bed.

“What’re you doing?” Matt chuckled, trying not to crumple his

suit.

But Brooks pinned him down. “Oh, my God, I’m so stressed out. I

need a quickie.” He yanked off his jacket and tossed it on the floor,
then unbuttoned his shirt.

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Daisy Harris

“You’re insane.” Matt ran his hands over Brooks’s bare skin. He

hadn’t wanted to have sex at all under Brooks’s parents’ roof, but
with Brooks getting naked, it was hard to resist.

“Nah. We have at least a half an hour before everyone gets here.”

He shoved at the shoulders of Matt’s jacket.

Matt sat up far enough for Brooks to undress him. “Yes, but won’t

they wonder where we are?” He was laughing, struggling with
Brooks’s clothes, unfastening his belt.

Brooks paused, pinning Matt with a disbelieving stare. “Matt,

you’ve met my mother, right?”

Matt’s lower lip trembled. He tried not to laugh, he really did. But

the concept of Barbara Price suddenly saying, “Wait! Where is my
gay son and his ‘friend’?” was so funny and improbable that Matt felt
tears of laughter well up in his eyes. “You’re right. No one is coming
to look for us.”

He rolled on top, shoving his pants down to his knees as he went.

Odd, but he and Brooks always seemed to have sex half clothed. It
was hotter when they were struggling.

“You want to start or finish?” Brooks stretched his arms up over

his head, fumbling around on their nightstand for lube.

“Really?” Matt had just been thinking about a quick jerk together,

not full-out sex. He reared back to take off the rest of his clothes.
Normally, he didn’t mind getting messy, but he had to wear those out
in public.

“Yeah, really.” Brooks hooked a hand around Matt’s neck,

dragging him in for another kiss. Then he hitched his leg over Matt’s
back and flipped them both over to get on top. Their cocks slapped
together, their chests rubbing roughly.

Matt grabbed Brooks’s hips and ground up into him. “You start. I

wanna finish.”

“Slut.” Brooks hauled Matt’s leg up, cocking his knee almost to

his shoulder. Then he swiped lube over Matt’s opening, fingered him
in quick, deep shoves.

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117

“Oh, you are lucky I don’t flip you over and beat you till you beg

for it.” Matt growled when Brooks forced a third finger inside,
twisting as payback.

“Shut the fuck up.” Brooks thrust inside him so fast that Matt

hadn’t even known he was going to start. He bucked hard, riding Matt
like he knew Matt could take it, like he knew Matt was gonna give it
back to him when they were both about to come.

Matt arched, helping Brooks hit that spot inside him. Damn,

Brooks was so good. Better, Matt knew, than he was. He wasn’t big,
but he had this impeccable aim that always got Matt so stiff he didn’t
even have to touch himself to get off. “Stop.” Matt caught Brooks’s
shoulders, forcing him to be still. His dick pulsed, dribbling pre-cum
and pointing straight out from his body, as if reaching for Brooks’s
smooth skin. “Gonna go soon.”

Brooks’s eyes were half lidded, drowning in arousal, but still he

managed to sound cocky when he asked, “I’m that good, huh?”

Matt grabbed Brooks by the face, pushing him off, and then

wrestled him around and onto his knees. When he’d forced Brooks’s
cheek  to  the  bed,  he  grabbed  the  lube  from  where  it  was  lying  and
smoothed  it  over  his  cock.  “You  cocky  little  whore.”  He  gave
Brooks’s  ass  a  swat  before  fitting  his  cap  to  Brooks’s  hole.  Matt
hoped the sound of it hadn’t carried through the open window.

“Shit, fuck, oh, my…fuck.” Brooks bounced slightly, shivering, as

Matt pushed into him. Matt could tell he was an inch from coming
since he wasn’t rubbing himself frantically like he normally did when
he got done.

“God, I love you.” Matt bucked into him, pounding with

abandon—Brooks’s body a perfect vessel for his lust.

“Fuck. You, too.” Brooks craned his head around for a kiss and

Matt met him, their teeth catching and their faces scraping and their
lips bruised.

“Go on…” Matt palmed Brooks’s ass, railing as hard as he could,

watching Brooks’s hand blur as he jerked off below him. And then

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Daisy Harris

Brooks was pushing back, like a sheep being forced to the edge of a
cliff, and he started mewling out these high-pitched sounds that were
in no way masculine, but still turned Matt on so much he thought his
dick would burst at the seams.

“I…I…I…”
Matt kissed Brooks’s back, feeling the clench of Brooks’s ass on

his  cock,  the  answering  pulse  of  his  own  orgasm.  They  held  still,
though  their  whole  bodies  were  coiled  and  shivering.  His  world
narrowed to the feeling of Brooks’s under him, his cock buried deep,
his  legs  scratching  on  the  back  of  Brooks’s  thighs,  and  the  sound  of
crickets  outside  the  window.  And  if  there  were  people  with  their
parties  and  their  agendas  and  their  announcements  waiting  outside,
Matt didn’t plan to return to the world for a very long time.

THE END

WWW.THEDAISYHARRIS.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Birkenstock-wearing glamour girl and mother of two by

immaculate conception, Daisy Harris still isn’t sure if she writes
erotica. Her romances start out innocently enough, but much to Miss
Harris’s dismay the sex tends to get completely out of hand.

She writes about fantastical creatures and about young men

getting their freak on, and she’s never missed an episode of The
Walking Dead.

For all titles by Daisy Harris, please visit