Straight Friend's Dry Spell – Chapter 3

Everyone is 18.

Chapter 3: His Last Dry Spell

Our senior year, we re-upped on the same apartment, tacitly agreeing that our arrangement was working for both of us. We didn't even speak about it. I just found the new lease one day on the counter, and he had already signed his section. Once we started classes again, the stress started to get to him. Whereas I was pretty secure in getting recruited for a decent job, he was on edge the whole time, and his girl troubles didn't make it any easier.

He dropped that long distance girl the year prior, after he confronted her about always being with her male friends and she admitted to sleeping with them all regularly. While it was already obvious to me, it had hit him like a ton of bricks. He withdrew for a while, and I really only interacted with him during his increasingly frequent nighttime visits. He had developed an evolved routine of slamming his ass onto my face repeatedly while I ate him out. When he was ready he would stuff my throat and cum in seconds. I know he needed these release sessions, and furthermore he needed it to be tacit and unspoken. I never broke our implied agreement, and I always looked forward to being there for him.

When he was finally over that girl, he started dating again, and his visits to my room eventually ceased. Of course, inevitably, it wasn't long into our senior year that he had another dry spell.

One night before Thanksgiving break, it had been a few months since he’d last slipped into my room, the soft click of the door the only warning before his bare feet padded across the floor. The air in the apartment was thick with tension. It wasn’t the usual kind—the kind that came from exam stress or a fight over whose turn it was to take out the trash. This was something else. Something heavier.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could pretend I didn’t notice. He’d been quiet that night. Almost shy. But the way he’d looked at me—like he was asking for something he couldn’t say out loud—still lingered in my mind. He’d left without a word, just a rough ruffle of my hair, his typical reminder that we were still good, that things hadn't changed between us, like we were still kids wrestling in the backyard. But we weren’t kids anymore.

Now, as I sat on the couch, scrolling through my phone, he entered the living room and paced, and I could feel the weight of it again. His restlessness clung to him like a second skin. He was shirtless, his further augmented gym routine still paying off in the sinewy muscles that rippled under his skin as he moved. He looked like Luigi Mangione, but less Italian. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, the outline of his cock naturally straining against the fabric. He had a big one, and couldn't hide it even if he wanted to. He didn’t say anything, but his energy was practically screaming. Something was on his mind. He was back in one of his moods.

“You good?” I finally asked, breaking the silence. I knew the answer. He had girl problems again.

He stopped pacing, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, man. Just… tense.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He hesitated, his jaw working like he was chewing on the words. Then he let out a frustrated sigh and dropped onto the couch beside me. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s her.”

“Your new girlfriend?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"It's been three weeks!" he insisted, his eyes fixed on the floor. “We're getting serious, and it’s… I don’t know. It’s not the same.”

I withheld my instinct to roll my eyes. He always gets overly attached to girls and gets destroyed when there's a contraction of passion. I still loved the guy, and just wanted to be the sounding board he needed.

“How so?” I asked.

“She’s… distant,” he muttered, his voice low. “Like, she’s always busy. Always got something going on. And when we do talk, it’s like… I don’t know. It’s like she’s not really there, you know?”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what to say. I’d never been in a relationship like that. My own love life was… complicated. I’d been on a few dates with a girl from my lit class, but nothing had come of it. To be honest, it's because it was during his last dry spell, and with the regular visits, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way he’d look at me in those quiet moments before he’d slip into my bed. About the way his hips would jerk forward when I took him in my mouth. About the way he’d groan my name like it was the only word he knew.

“Maybe you just need to talk to her,” I suggested, though I wasn’t sure I believed it.

He scoffed. “I’ve tried. She just says she’s ‘stressed.’ But it’s more than that, man. I can feel it.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I didn’t say anything. Just sat there, watching him as he ran a hand over his face, his frustration palpable.

After a long silence, he stood up abruptly. “I’m gonna hit the gym,” he announced, though it was almost midnight. “Clear my head.”

I nodded, watching as he grabbed his gym bag and headed for the door. But before he left, he stopped, his hand on the doorknob, and looked back at me. He didn't ask directly, but his eyes almost pleaded, you’ll be up when I get back, right?

His nerves made my stomach clench. I nodded, as if to say yeah, I’ll be up.

He slipped out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

–[]–

When he came back an hour or so later, the apartment was dark except for the soft glow of the TV. I was lying on the couch, half-asleep, when I heard the door open. He didn’t say anything, just dropped his gym bag by the door and walked over to the couch. He was still shirtless, his chest glistening with sweat, his muscles taut from the workout. I could smell the faint tang of a light cologne mixed with the sharpness of his sweat, and it made my stomach tighten. He didn't shower, does he know that turns me on?

He glanced at me, his eyes unreadable, then sat down on the edge of the couch, his body between my legs. I didn’t say anything, just watched as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed. His breathing was still heavy from the workout, his shoulders rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

After a long moment, he turned to look at me. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“About what?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

He hesitated, his jaw working like he was struggling with the words. Then he reached out, his hand brushing against my thigh. “About this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “About what we... do. About… how much I need it.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't believe he actually addressed it verbally. It was surreal. “It’s… it’s okay,” I said, my voice shaky.

He shook his head, his hand tightening on my thigh. “No, it’s not. It’s… I don’t know, man. It’s different now. It’s not just… stress relief anymore. It’s… I don’t know. It’s more.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So, as usual, I didn’t say anything. Just sat there, my breathing shallow, my body tingling with anticipation. Letting him say what he needed to say, when he was ready.

After a long silence, he stood up abruptly. His eyes said c'mon, let's go.

I didn’t hesitate. Just followed him down the hall to my room, my heart pounding in my chest. The energy was different, like something was breaching from under the surface.

When we reached my room, he didn’t say anything. Just closed the door behind us, then turned to me, his eyes dark and intense. He reached out, his hands rough as he pulled off my shirt, then my sweatpants, leaving me naked on the bed. I didn’t resist. Just lay there, my breathing shallow, my body trembling with anticipation.

He didn’t say anything. Just climbed onto the bed, his body hovering over mine, his eyes locked on mine. Then he leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. “I need you,” he whispered, his voice rough and desperate. “I need you, Cody.”

I didn’t hesitate. Just reached up, my hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him down to me. His lips crashed against mine, hungry and desperate, his tongue sliding into my mouth. I moaned while my body arched against his, my hands roaming over his muscular back.

He pulled away, his breathing ragged, his eyes beaming. Then he reached down, his grip rough as he wrangled my hips and flipped me onto my stomach effortlessly.

When he entered me, it was slow, deliberate, his hips pressing against mine until he was buried deep inside. I moaned, my hands clutching the sheets, my body on fire. I had missed this. Then he started to move, his hips rocking into me with a steady rhythm, his breath hot against my neck.

“God, Cody,” he groaned, his voice rough and desperate. “You feel so fucking good.”

I didn’t say anything. Just moaned, my hands gripping the sheets as he moved inside me. His hips slapped against mine, the sound echoing in the quiet room, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice rough and possessive. “You understand that? You’re mine.”

I nodded, my body quivering with pleasure. “Yours,” I gasped, my voice shaky.

Something was finally switched on inside me. I had been his stress reliever since Freshman year, but our connection had built under the surface into something real. He was never fulfilled with girls because I was the one he needed. I leaned forward and let him slip out of me. I rolled onto my back to meet his gaze, grabbed his shaft and guided him back inside me, my legs in the air.

He leaned down, his lips meeting mine once again, but more gently. His tongue caressed mine. I moaned. My hands gripped his ass as he moved inside me. His body slapped against me, the sound echoing in my ears.

He thrust in rapid bursts, followed by freezing inside me. I recognized the maneuver. He didn't want to cum. He wanted this to last. We had finally broken the surface of something real between us. It would be an intense conversation, but it could wait. It had to wait. So we kept fucking. When his arms got tired I rode him. When I needed a break, he sat on my face. He smothered me deliciously while I slurped his hole. I even got a thumb inside at one point, eliciting gutteral noises from him that I didn't even recognize. He even grabbed my cock for the first time at some point, making me prematurely ejaculate all over myself, but I kept going. I had to.

Around sunrise, when he finally came, it was with a low groan. He let himself go, and his body convulsed as he spilled himself inside me. I moaned, ready to pass out. I had cum at least twice, I couldn't remember exactly. Then he collapsed on top of me, his breathing ragged. Before I even came down from the high, and recognized the emptiness in my hole, he was snoozing. His breathing was just barely audible, enough to know that he had passed out cold.

I lay there for a long time, the only sound our breathing syncing back into something quiet, until I fell asleep. It was mid day when I awoke to the sun filtering in through my curtains. He was already hard, his cock pressing insistently against my ass. I barely had time to process it before he was on me, his hands gripping my hips as he pulled me back against him. My body was still loose from the night before, slick with his dried cum, and he slid into me with ease, a low groan escaping his lips.

“God, Cody,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and desire. He didn’t waste any time, his hips snapping into me with a rhythm that was both familiar and new. This was the first time we’d done it in the morning, and there was something raw and unfiltered about it. It was a morning wood boner inside me, and I could sense how hard it was. It was a piece of steel inside me, punching my prostate relentlessly. The intimacy of waking up next to him, like this, sent a shiver down my spine.

I reached back, my hand finding his thigh, gripping it as he drove into me. His pace was relentless, his breath hot against the back of my neck. “Fuck, you’re still so tight,” he groaned, his voice rough and desperate. His rhythm was different than normal, less practiced, more sporadic. My body responded to the spontaneity, quivering into his thrusts, my arousal building with his.

He leaned down, his chest pressing against my back, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “All night, all morning, every fucking day. You’re mine now.”

I moaned, my body losing control beneath his, my arms shaking as he pounded into me. His words echoed in my head. This wasn’t just sex anymore. It was something deeper, something real.

When he finally came, it was with a shuddering groan, spilling himself inside me once again. I lay there, my body buzzing, as he pulled out slowly with a wet plop and collapsed beside me, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The silence between us was heavy, filled with unspoken words and emotions we weren’t quite ready to face. But for now, this was enough. More than enough.

After a long silence, he turned to look at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough.

I nodded, my breathing shallow. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

He didn’t say anything. Just reached out, his hand brushing against my cheek. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, almost tender kiss.

When he pulled away, he didn’t say anything. Just lay there, his body pressed against mine, his breathing slow and steady.

I knew what it meant. And, we didn't actually have to talk about anything after all. Whatever was happening between us wasn’t just sex anymore. It was something more. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for it, but I wanted it.

He turned to look at me, his eyes dark and intense. “This… this is real, right?” he asked, his voice rough.

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “It’s real.”