Randy For Submission, Pursuing the One, Chapter 16: When You Least Expect It

Chapter 16: When You Least Expect It

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

The past few weeks had a rhythm, but not one Randy liked. He went through the motions every day. Wake up. Train. Sit through lectures that washed over him without sinking in. Kill time with friends and every so often Ezra. Every few nights he’d take someone home, but it never hit the way he wanted.

The one thing that cut through the haze was the search. Those walks across campus where he’d scan the crowd for the boy.

It had started back in the dead of winter. Heavy coats and scarves, breath fogging in the air. The kid had been easy to spot then: the way he carried himself, the way he seemed half in his own world but still sharp enough to meet Randy’s eyes in passing. Even through layers, there’d been something there, potential.

Randy had built the whole thing up in his head. When the weather warmed, he’d get more to work with. No more puffed-up coats hiding the lines of his body. No more hoods to block the shape of his jaw. Spring would peel all that back and give Randy the chance to make a real move.

Except spring came, and the sightings didn’t. The kid’s schedule must have changed. The walks Randy had mapped out in his head, the spots he’d lingered in, stopped paying off. The glimpses were rarer now. Weeks would pass without anything.

When he did spot him, it was always in motion. Crossing the quad. Heading down St. George. A flick of eye contact, then gone again. Randy had tried slowing his own pace, timing things to close the gap. The kid never slowed down. That elusiveness was starting to wear Randy down. He was used to getting attention. Usually the boys came to him if he wanted them to.

Then one late afternoon, leaving a lecture, Randy stepped out into the open and saw him. The boy was cutting across King’s College Circle, taking the diagonal over the grass. Sunlight hit him at an angle that lit his hair like a frame. Their eyes met from a distance.

It wasn’t just a glance this time. The kid held it. Not long enough for a smile, but long enough to register. Long enough to make Randy’s chest tighten and his steps slow.

He was so fixed on that look that he didn’t notice the body in front of him until they collided. Hard enough to jolt him, to send his books spilling in a slap of paper and thud of hardcovers against the path.

“Oh, shit, sorry—”

The voice was soft, a little breathless from the impact. Randy looked up and froze.

The guy standing there wasn’t just his type. He was the kind of guy Randy would have picked out of a crowd without a second thought. Hair so blond it was almost white, cut short at the sides but left longer on top, a little too long to be neat. It flopped forward in an uneven sweep, and Randy could tell it would fall into his eyes if he let it. No gel, no fake shine. Just hair you wanted to run your hand through to see how soft it was. His skin was pale enough that the chill had painted a faint pink across his cheeks, and it made his features look sharper, more alive.

His eyes didn’t give away a specific color at first glance, but they locked on Randy and stayed there. Not in a challenging way, almost pleading. The set of his mouth hooked Randy too. He had full lips with a natural downturn at the corners that gave him this faintly serious look, even though nothing about him seemed tense. There was something about the whole picture that made Randy want to keep looking, as though the details would change if he blinked.

He’d dropped his own stack of books too. But instead of reaching for them, he crouched to gather Randy’s first. Not just a few, the whole pile. He stacked them neatly before even glancing at his own.

It caught Randy off guard. He was the one not watching where he was going. He’d been the one distracted. And yet here was this guy, putting him first without hesitation.

That single gesture said more than any flirty line could. The angle of his shoulders, the quick, deliberate movements, the way his eyes flicked up to check Randy’s face before returning to the books. It wasn’t just politeness. It was habit.

“You didn’t have to—” Randy started.

“Of course I did,” the boy said, cutting him off gently. No edge in his tone, just quiet certainty.

When the boy stood and handed back the books, Randy felt the weight settle in his arms. The kid didn’t just shove them at him and move on. He passed them over like he wanted to be sure Randy had them before letting go, his fingers curling slightly before he pulled back. His own books were still on the ground at his feet, pages splayed out in the wind, but he didn’t seem to care.

That’s when Randy got a better read on the rest. The guy was slim, maybe five-eight, with that light, compact frame that could go either way — wiry strength or just lean by nature. The jeans were fitted, not skin-tight, but they clung enough at the hips to make it impossible not to look. The cream crewneck he had on hung loose at the waist but caught a little at his shoulders, hinting at how narrow they were. His boots were worn leather, the kind that looked like they’d been around for a while. There was a single scuff near the toe, a little flaw that made the whole outfit look lived-in. And the fact he’d gone for Randy’s books first, without hesitation, said more than any of that.

“Guess I should watch where I’m going,” Randy said, letting a slow smirk work onto his face.

The boy gave him a small smile back, warmer than Randy expected. “Me too.”

Randy crouched, partly to grab the boy’s books and partly to let the moment stretch. Their fingers brushed.

“You in a hurry?” he asked.

“Not really.” The upward lilt in his voice made it sound like the answer could shift if Randy wanted it to.

“Then walk with me,” Randy said.

The boy nodded, no hesitation, falling into step beside him as if it was already decided.

They fell into step without talking at first, the shuffle of boots on pavement filling the quiet. Randy adjusted the books in his arms, still aware of the weight of them, the faint memory of the boy’s fingers against his own.

“Where were you headed?” Randy asked, not because he cared about the answer, but because he liked hearing the kid’s voice.

“Robarts,” he said. “Needed a few sources for a paper.”

Randy glanced over. “Let me guess — history major?”

“Political science,” the boy said. “Third year.”

That fit. Robarts was practically the mothership for poli-sci kids. Randy had taken a couple of classes in that brick-and-glass fortress himself, though mostly to meet people, not for the coursework. “That explains the stack you were hauling. Poli-sci people always look like they’re moving house.”

The boy laughed under his breath, short but real. “It’s worse when you forget the laptop charger. That’s when you know you’ve messed up.”

They passed a pair of students heading the other way, both bundled in puffy vests despite the warming air. The campus was shaking off winter in slow stages. Patches of grass were still damp and matted, but the trees were starting to bud, tiny bursts of green against the gray.

“You from Toronto?” Randy asked.

The boy shook his head. “Ottawa. Moved here for school.”

Randy smirked. “And stayed for the rent prices and gridlock, right?”

“That, and the constant smell of weed on Yonge Street,” he said. “Though I can’t say I mind the food.”

Randy found himself grinning. “You’ve been here three years and you still call it ‘the food’? You need to get more specific. What’s your spot?”

“Banh Mi Boys,” he said, no hesitation. “On Queen. And probably Bar Raval if I’m pretending to have money.”

“Good choices,” Randy said, filing away the easy way the boy had slid from cheap eats to high-end drinks. “You hit Kensington much?”

“Yeah, mostly for vintage stuff. And sometimes Seven Lives.”

They turned onto St. George, the wide sidewalks still busy with students moving in clusters. A couple of guys tossed a frisbee back and forth on the grass beside Sidney Smith Hall, missing catches on purpose so they could chase the disc farther.

For a moment, Randy’s mind drifted back to the other boy. The one he’d been chasing for weeks. He wondered where he was now. But the thought slipped away as quickly as it came. The new boy was right here, and there was something about the way he matched Randy’s pace without thinking about it.

“You ever go out on Church?” Randy asked, letting the question hang like it could mean anything.

The boy glanced at him, something flickering in his expression. “Sometimes.”

Randy pretended to study the street ahead. “Ever been to Woody’s?”

That got a small, slow smile. “Yeah,” he said. “A few times.”

Randy felt a pulse of satisfaction. Woody’s wasn’t the kind of place you wandered into by accident. It was the most well-known gay bar in the city, and it didn’t leave much room for confusion about what it was.

“You like it?” Randy asked.

“Depends who I’m there with,” the boy said. His tone was light, but there was a spark under it.

Randy tilted his head, studying him openly now. “Come with me sometime?”

The boy’s smile widened, still shy at the edges but warmer now. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

They crossed Harbord, weaving between a couple arguing over bike locks. The air smelled faintly of roasted coffee from a café on the corner. Randy adjusted his grip on the books again, less because they were slipping and more to keep himself from reaching out to touch the boy’s arm.

“What’s your name?” Randy asked.

“Aaron,” he said.

Randy tested it in his head. Aaron. Short, easy. It fit him. “I’m Randy.”

By the time they reached the corner where their paths split, Randy knew he didn’t want to leave it here. “I’ll text you,” he said.

Aaron didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his cellphone, unlocked it and handed it to Randy with the address book section open. Randy typed in his name and number, then repeated the process with his own phone to get Aaron’s number too, “In case you lose yours.”

Aaron handed the phone back and Randy slid it into his pocket like it was worth more than gold. “See you soon, Aaron.”

“See you,” Aaron said, and headed off toward Robarts.

Randy stood there for a stitch longer than necessary, watching him go.

Randy’s walk back to his apartment felt shorter than usual. The streets were the same, but his head was somewhere else entirely. Every step replayed moments from the past half hour. The way Aaron’s eyes had stayed on him. The way he had passed over the books. The fact he had picked up Randy’s before his own. That detail stuck the hardest. It had been instinct, something deep inside the boy.

By the time Randy turned onto Bloor, the other boy he had been chasing for weeks had faded to a memory. He still didn’t know his name, and now he didn’t care to. Aaron was better looking by a mile. Not just good looking, but magnetic in a way that tugged at Randy’s attention and refused to let go.

He pictured him now, the pale sweep of his hair falling into his eyes, those steady lips parting to speak in that calm, even voice. It wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine him on his knees, the curve of his neck as he tilted his head back to take Randy in. His hands loose at his sides, not holding Randy, just there because they had been told to be.

Randy let the image deepen. Aaron on all fours, crawling toward him across the hardwood, naked now. The way the skin on his back would shine, skin warming under Randy’s hand. That quiet mouth slack around his cock, the corners stretched, spit catching at his chin. The light pink in his cheeks turning hotter after Randy’s palm landed across his ass, once, then again, enough to make it turn red.

He shifted his grip on his books, not because they were slipping, but to mask the way he had started adjusting himself through his jeans. His cock was already thickening, but he let it be. No sense wasting it. Not today.

This deserved more than jerking off alone.

Ezra’s face came to mind. Randy had used him more than once since that night, and Ezra had never been anything but eager in bed. That was never the problem. What gnawed at Randy was that Ezra didn’t want anything more than a quick fuck when it suited him. No dinners, no waking up together, no part of his life beyond the hours between four walls. Randy wanted more than that. He wanted a lover, not just a body to get off with. Which was what made Aaron different. Before they had even kissed, Aaron had already agreed to go out with him. That meant something.

Randy pictured it clearly. Ezra kneeling at his feet, flushed and breathless, while Randy told him about Aaron. Every detail. The hair, the mouth, the way he had picked up the books first. Watching Ezra squirm at the idea of someone else in that position. Watching him regret that all he had to do to keep Randy’s focus was say yes to a simple dinner.

By the time he reached his building, the plan had already taken shape. Ezra would come tonight. He would hear every word Randy wanted to feed him, and he would beg for the chance to keep his place.

By the time Randy had climbed the stairs to his apartment, the anticipation was as steady as the beat of his heart. He set his books on the counter without looking at them, already fishing his phone out of his pocket.

The thought of Aaron lingered, pushing him into a frenzy. His pale hair, the way he picked up the books when they fell, how quickly he’d agreed to Radny’s proposal to going out. Randy’s cock was hard now, pressing against the front of his jeans. It wasn’t for Aaron yet, not directly. Tonight was for Ezra.

He opened their message thread and typed without preamble.

Randy: Be at my place tonight. Nine.

No preamble, just an order.

He tossed the phone on the couch and started undressing, the stiffness in his cock making it impossible to ignore. A shower would help. Not to get rid of it, but to keep himself wound tight for later.

The phone buzzed before he’d made it to the bathroom.

Ezra: Yes, Master. Been thinking about you all week.

Randy read it twice, the corners of his mouth pulling into a slow grin. Ezra was already where he wanted him: needy, waiting, imagining what was coming.

He slid the phone back into his pocket. Let him wait. Tonight, Ezra would get exactly what he craved, and Randy would make sure every moment was colored by the thought of Aaron.

It was going to be a good night.