The Student Auction - Part 2

Ask and you shall receive! Part 2 of... Who knows? 

All characters are 18+

Our eyes connected. He held the gaze until the sudden realisation hit him, and he turned his back on me again.

“Sorry” he said, with a hint of a laugh, “I got a bit carried away there”.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do anything except look at his half naked body. The way his spine trailed his back, the curves and dips where muscle met flesh beneath the young man’s perfect, flawless skin. His underwear, tight around his waist, stretched over the greatest ass I’d ever laid eyes on. His legs, firm, muscular, and strong. Even his feet made my heart yearn. Mason was truly a spectacular human.

“Can I make you breakfast or something?” He asked, his hands on the counter top again, pushing his broad shoulders up close to his ears, showing me that he was almost as deep in thought as I was. “Matty?”

“Yeah” I swallowed. “That would be nice”.

That would be nice? What was this? A sitcom from the seventies? I needed another coffee. I didn’t even like coffee, but I needed one. My heart felt panicked, like something bad had just happened, but it wasn’t bad. It was the most magical of all the moments in my life so far. Hearing him, seeing him, had it really been true? His final sentence, and maybe I’d fuck him, too. Could it be, that Mason had gotten so carried away in his dark fantasies that he’d let slip the truth?

“I’m gonna take a shower” I said, and walked, like someone who couldn’t see, toward the door. Mason just nodded and cracked an egg, and even that was arousing.

The water exploded from the shower head as I undressed. I wasn’t even surprised to see that my underwear, cotton white and a snug fit, was drenched in pre-cum. My cock stuck out from my body and pulsed, eager for release almost as much as I was.

It didn’t make sense. Mason was the type of person who would have let everybody know if he was gay. He wouldn’t have kept it a secret, because he was the most confident, charming, charismatic person in the school, and he didn’t have to care what anybody else thought about him.

I’d fuck him, too.

The words played over in my mind as I stood under the jet and let the water wash away the confusion. It was a joke. Perhaps he was teasing me. Perhaps he was trying to push me into a corner where I’d admit that I was gay. But he was hard. And he wasn’t just hard, he was rock hard.

The image of Mason’s delicious cock, squeezing against the confines of his underwear, desperate to escape, remained burned in my mind. I’d grow old and die with that image, and I’d do it happily.

Things like this didn’t happen in real life. I guess that was the strangest part. Boys like Mason Creevey didn’t just say these things or do these things. Stuff like this was resigned to pages of a story or scenes from a movie, and yet he stood in my kitchen, at this very moment, wearing hardly a thing and cooking me breakfast.

I stepped out of the shower and stood there, naked and dripping, as steam clouded around me. My cock hadn’t softened once, and the ache was making me ravenous.

“Breakfast’s ready” he called from outside the door.

Come in. Come in and rip my towel from me. Do things to my body that you’ll remember for the rest of your life. Take me. Use me.

“Thanks” I said instead, and bit my fist until my teeth made impressions on my knuckles. “Fuck, fuck, fuck”.

How could I survive two full days like this? He’d be awkward now, for sure. I’d be awkward. Would he sleep in his own bed tonight? Could I convince him to watch the most terrifying movie ever made, in the hopes that he’d slide back under my sheets? A cruel idea, but a tantalising one.

The kitchen was warm with the scent of bacon and pancakes, and through the haze of horniness from earlier, I’d almost forgotten how hungry I was. Mason plated up and sat down across from me, then smiled and said “dig in”.

We ate in silence for the most part. Cutlery scraped off the plate, and we both remained in our own heads until he finally spoke.

“I hope I didn’t freak you out earlier” he said, ripping a piece of toast with his teeth, “I can be a bit over the top sometimes” he added with a hearty laugh.

“No, no” I said, swallowing, “it was um… It was interesting”.

“Interesting?”

I nodded. “It was uh… Kinda’ hot”.

There. I said it.

“Oh” he chuckled, “yeah, I guess it was”.

“It’s a pity that there were no hot, horny housewives to bid on you” I said, and Mason nodded as he swallowed a mouthful of orange juice.

“Right?” He grinned, “I was hoping Mrs. Carmichael would take a shot, but I guess I’m not her type”.

“I think you’re everyone’s type” I smiled, and our eyes met again.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah”.

“I wasn’t Zoe Roberts type”

“Then why did she cry for three whole weeks when you dumped her?”

His smile widened a little further.

“I’m not Mrs. Appleby’s type”

“She’s a seventy year old lunch lady”.

Mason shrugged and said “I rest my case”.

I returned to my plate, but he wasn’t finished. “Am I your type?” He asked, and my stomach felt as though it had seized up, and suddenly I wasn’t hungry anymore.

“M… My type?”

His elbows rested on the table. My mom would have had something to say about that, but I think even she would give Mason Creevey a pass for his table manners. He held a knife in one hand and a fork in the other, and the plate between his elbows looked tiny in comparison to his frame.

“Yeah” he shrugged, as though it was nothing, and chased a piece of bacon, “if you were gay, would I be your type?”

If.

“I don’t know” I scoffed, telling the biggest lie that had ever come out of my mouth. “Maybe”.

“Maybe?!” He shook his head, but his infectious smile remained, “that’s cold, Matty. Real cold”.

“I suppose you would” I said, unable to look at him as the words left, “if I was gay”.

“I guess we’ll never know”

“I guess not”.

When it came time to clean up, Mason once again took charge. I was beginning to feel bad making him do all the cleaning, but he seemed unbothered. That was the thing about Mason. He was unbothered about everything. He was unbothered about coming here in the first place, even though I wasn’t even on the high school food chain. He was unbothered about sleeping next to me. He was unbothered about divulging his sexual fantasies. He was unbothered about the fact that his large, succulent cock had almost exploded from his underwear, right before my very eyes.

“So what’s the plan for today then?” He asked, scrubbing, “your house is spotless. You strike me as the type of guy who has his homework done, and you’ve got no dogs for me to walk”.

It was true. There wasn’t much that Mason could do, except just stand there and allow me to gaze upon his delicious body. Cole had blindsided me with this. Perhaps if I had have known that I’d be hosting the hottest young man on the planet, I would have pre-planned the weekend.

I stood up and brought my plate over to him. “I don’t know” I said truthfully, as he took it from my hands, “what do you like doing?”

His shoulders bounced. He was laughing at me.

“What do I like doing?” He asked, turning his perfect head slightly, “I like doing all sorts, but I’m not here to do what I like, I’m here to do what you like, so I’ll ask you again, Matty. What do you want to do today?”

He turned around. We were close now. Almost closer than we’d been in bed. So close that I could see the individual muscles on his body tense and ease. So close that with each breath, his warm, sweet scent filled my mind and body and made me want to do things that I’d never wanted to do before.

“All sorts” I breathed.

Being in a room with Mason was like being in a pressure cooker. It started off fine, and then slowly it began to heat up and everything became tense and wonderful, and it continued, and continued, until I could hardly breathe, and right at the last second, when I was inches from exploding in a fit of horny rage, the lid came off, and the air returned.

Was he doing it on purpose? Was he doing it at all? Perhaps it was me. Maybe I was being so blatantly obvious with my burning lust for Mason Creevey that I was the one creating the toxic environment.

“So” he said, drying his hands on a dish cloth as he walked into the living room.

The light from the large windows made him look even better out here. Every muscle in his body was defined sharply.

“Seeing as you’re being all shy about it now, how about we play a little game?”

I would have played anything that he wanted me to play, but I shrugged to show how unbothered I was, just like him.

He strolled, still barefoot, across the room and sat next to me. He turned his body to face me, curled his leg up under him, and leaned his elbow on the back of the sofa.

“Who was your first crush?” He asked, with a cheeky grin on his handsome face.

“What?” I scoffed, “my first crush?”

“Yeah, who was it?”

“Oh, I don’t know” I lied, “probably Alexandra Carlisle in the seventh grade”.

“You and every other kid in the seventh grade” he laughed.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have a crush on her, too”

“Good looks must run in the family” he said casually, “she’s my cousin”.

Of course she was. She was nineteen now, and was a model for some fancy magazine. It didn’t even surprise me that they were related.

“Now you go” he said, and I was beginning to feel like this was a rather juvenile way to spend my Saturday morning.

“I don’t know” I laughed, but he pushed me. He actually pushed me.

“Have you ever…” My voice trailed off. It was a stupid question. Childish and ridiculous.

“What?” He asked, but I shook my head. “Matty, what?”

“It’s dumb”.

“And sleeping in your bed because I was scared of ghosts wasn’t?” He scoffed, and pushed me again, “say it”.

“Have you ever had sex?”

I knew the answer. I knew it because nobody as hot as Mason could possibly be a virgin. And he knew I knew it, because he held back a teasing smile and simply nodded.

“I told you it was stupid” I mumbled, feeling more foolish again as my cheeks turned red.

His hand reached up and took my chin. His touch sent shivers of electricity rippling through my body, making the hairs on my neck stand up, and causing my heart to skip a beat.

“Do you want to spend the rest of this weekend naked, Matty?” He whispered, “because I don’t think I can sit here another minute without jumping on you”.