Sticks, Tricks, and Dicks – Part 3

Everyone in this story is 18+.

The Delta Chi basement thumped with bass, sweat and spilled beer thick in the air, pledges crammed shoulder-to-shoulder in our blindfolds, wrists bound loose with frat scarves. Tyler's voice boomed over the speakers: "Repeat after me, fuckers—Delta Chi forever, brothers for life!" We echoed it back, voices slurring from the mystery shots burning down our throats—fireball mixed with God-knows-what, my stomach churning but my grin wide under the blindfold. Jake was next to me, his elbow knocking mine, his laugh breaking through the chant, low and infectious. "This is insane," he whispered, close enough I felt his breath on my neck, his polo damp against my arm.

"Shut up and chant, Midwest," I whispered back, nudging him harder, our hips bumping in the tight line. The room erupted in cheers as Tyler yanked off our blindfolds one by one, the dim lights hitting us like a slap—red Solo cups everywhere, upperclassmen in togas howling. He slapped the Delta Chi pin on my chest first, the metal cold against my skin through my tee. "You're in, Grayson! Welcome to the family!" I ripped off the scarf, pumping my fist, the crowd surging around me.

Jake's turn. Tyler pinned him next, clapping his broad shoulder. "And you, big man—Delta Chi's got a new beast!" Jake's blue eyes lit up, his sandy blonde hair a mess, that guarded wall cracking into a full, goofy grin as he yanked me into a bear hug, his arms crushing around my back, his chest solid against mine. "We fucking did it!" he yelled, lifting me off the ground for a second, our legs tangling, laughter bubbling out of us both. The frat brothers whooped, shoving us toward the keg, Jake's hand slapping my back—lingering, warm, his fingers brushing the nape of my neck.

We chugged side by side, foam dripping down our chins, Jake wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes sparkling under the string lights. "Couldn't have done this without you, man," he said, voice low amid the chaos, his thigh pressing mine as we leaned against the sticky bar. "You're like... the only one who gets it."

I clapped his shoulder, feeling the muscle flex under my palm, my heart doing that stupid flip. "Partners in crime, remember? Now we're official." We dove back in—beer pong, where Jake's competitive streak shone, his tongue poking out as he sank shot after shot, high-fiving me each time, our palms slapping sticky and sure. Later, sprawled on the worn couch, his head lolling against my shoulder during a dumb hazing game, whispering NHL plays till 3 AM, the party fading around us. Best friends. Yeah, that fit—his laugh in my ear, his scent of sweat and cedar cologne pulling me in, but I kept it light, no risks. Not yet.

◆◆◆

Homecoming rolled in like a storm—campus buzzing with alumni, tailgates, and that crisp fall air that screamed football. Chris texted he was coming up, his first visit since I’d left for college. Can’t wait to see you on the field, kid. And meet this Jake guy you keep mentioning. My heart flipped—excitement mixed with that knot of guilt over Luka, over Jake. Chris knew about the hookup; I’d told him everything, our open deal holding strong. But Jake? He was different, a pull I couldn’t shake.

The football game was packed, the stadium roaring under floodlights, our team crushing some rival in red jerseys. I sat between Chris and Jake in the stands, the three of us in Delta Chi hoodies—mine navy, Jake’s black, Chris in a borrowed one that hugged his muscled bod like a glove. Chris looked good as ever, dark hair stylish, brown eyes warm, his arm slung casual around my shoulders. Jake, on my other side, was hyped, cheering with a beer in hand, his thigh pressed against mine in the tight seats.

“Jake, this is Chris—my, uh, someone special,” I said during halftime, the band blaring below. “Chris, Jake. My pledging partner in crime.”

Chris grinned, extending a hand over me, his grip firm as he shook Jake’s. “Heard a lot about you, man. Grayson says you’re a beast on the ice.”

Jake’s cheeks flushed—beer or something else?—his blue eyes flicking between us. “Yeah, well, he’s the one carrying me. Nice to meet you, Chris. Grayson talks about you all the time.”

Chris laughed, that deep rumble that always got me hard. “All good, I hope. You two seem tight—frat bros, teammates. Sounds like college done right.”

We bullshitted through the second half—Chris asking about Delta Chi antics, Jake sharing a story about us streaking the quad during a dare, me caught in the middle, my dick stirring at Chris’s hand on my knee, Jake’s shoulder bumping mine. The tension was thick, Jake’s glances at Chris curious, maybe jealous? Chris’s eyes on Jake appraising, like he was sizing up the competition. Our team won, the crowd erupting, and we piled out, heading to a tailgate afterparty where the beer flowed and the vibes got loose.

Back at my dorm that night, the door barely shut before Chris had me against it, his mouth on mine, rough and hungry. “Missed you, Grayson,” he growled, hands yanking my hoodie off, palming my chest, my nipples hardening under his thumbs. His late-30s body was all power—broad smooth chest, just a line of dark hair trailing down to his waistband, brown eyes dark with want.

“Missed you too,” I gasped, grinding against him, my cock hard in my jeans. We stripped fast, clothes hitting the floor—his shirt, my pants, briefs tenting with our dicks. Chris’s balls heavy and smooth I dropped to my knees, taking him deep, his head hitting the back of my throat as he groaned, fingers tangling in my dark hair. “Fuck, Grayson, that mouth.”

He pulled me up, flipping me onto the bed, his hands spreading my ass, tongue diving in, rimming me till I was moaning, my hole slick and twitching. “Gonna fuck you raw,” he said, voice thick, and I nodded, lube slicking his cock as he pushed in, bare, his girth stretching me wide. I groaned, back arching, my large dick leaking on my abs as he thrust deep, balls slapping my ass.

“Harder,” I begged, thinking of Jake for a split second—his body, his untouched heat—but Chris pounded me missionary, his chest pressed to mine, lips on my neck. “You’re so right,” he growled, but his words from earlier echoed—Explore. We flipped, me riding him like Luka had me, his cock hitting my spot, my ass clenching as I bounced, his hands on my hips. He came first, hot spurts filling me, and I shot across his chest, ropes of cum splattering his pecs.

We collapsed, panting, his cum leaking from my hole as he held me close, our sweat-slicked bodies tangled in the sheets. The room smelled like sex and his cologne, the faint hum of the dorm fridge the only sound besides our ragged breaths. Chris's fingers traced lazy circles over my abs, dipping into the ridges, his touch grounding me as my heart slowed.

"Tell me about Jake," he said after a while, voice soft, his head propped on one elbow, brown eyes searching mine in the dim light from my desk lamp.

I hesitated, heart pounding again—not from the fuck, but from the weight of it all. Chris was always my rock, the one I could spill everything to without judgment. "He's... more than a friend, I think. We met at camp, bonded over hockey, and now he's everywhere—practices, frat stuff, late-night talks. He's hot as hell, Chris. That ass, his laugh, the way he looks at me sometimes... but he's complicated. Closeted, I suspect. Guarded. I don't want to push and fuck it up."

Chris nodded, his fingers stilling for a moment, then resuming their path, brushing lower toward my spent cock. "Sounds like he's got you twisted up. You mentioned that shower thing at camp—electric, right? And now he's your pledging buddy, best friend. You falling for him?"

I swallowed, staring at the ceiling, the Blackhawks poster blurring in my vision. "Maybe. It's not like with you—deep, solid. This is new, exciting. Scary. And then there's Luka..."

"Ah, the figure skater," Chris said, smirking, but his eyes softened. "The one with the perky ass who rode you like a pro. You told me—hot, no strings. How'd that feel? Exploring without me?"

"Good," I admitted, turning to face him, my hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. "Freeing. Luka's out and proud, no drama. But it made me think of you—us. And Jake. Like, am I ready for more? Or is this just college bullshit?"

Chris chuckled, low and warm, pulling me closer, his lips brushing my forehead. "Kid, you're 18. College is for that bullshit—figuring out who you want, what you need. I'm proud of you for diving in. But yeah... it stings a little." His voice dropped, honest, a vulnerability I rarely saw in him. "Hearing about Luka, seeing you light up talking about Jake—it's a reminder you're out there living, growing. Without me every day. Jealous? A bit. But honestly? Seeing you like this, eyes bright, chasing what feels right... that makes it totally worth it. Our thing's solid because we keep it real. Just promise me—talk to me. About all of it."

I nodded, throat tight, kissing him soft. "I will, Chris. Always."

He grinned, rolling me under him again, his cock stirring against my thigh. "Good. Now, tell me more about this Jake. Think he'd be up for a three-way someday?"

I laughed, the tension easing, but as we drifted off, Jake's face lingered—the homecoming game replaying, his laugh, his eyes on us. Friendship was solid, but the pull was stronger than ever. College was just getting started.