The Halloween Party - Part 6

I didn’t sleep that night. Or maybe I slept in short, fitful bursts, waking every few minutes to the memory of Brody’s hands, Brody’s cock, the way he’d moaned my name. My chest ached, my cock throbbed even under the covers, and the idea of him out there somewhere, pretending nothing happened, was maddening.

By the time I got back to our dorm, the adrenaline had faded into a restless, heavy tension. Brody was sitting on his bed, headphones around his neck, pretending to scroll on his laptop. I knew he was pretending. I was pretending too.

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. My hand itched, subconsciously rubbing my thigh.

“Hey,” he replied, smooth, calm, like we hadn’t just fucked like maniacs an hour ago.

We both knew it was bullshit.

“It… was crazy last night,” I muttered, pacing a little. My cock pressed against my boxers, still impossible to ignore.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Just… heat of the moment.”

I laughed nervously, running a hand through my hair. “Totally. Nothing to think about. Just… drunk. Halloween. Weird energy.”

But neither of us moved. We sat across from each other, the tension like electricity in the room. Every glance, every twitch of a muscle, sent shivers down my spine.

And then, somehow, it happened.

His hand brushed mine as he reached for his laptop. Just by accident. My stomach tightened. His fingers lingered. My cock reacted immediately, straining, hard, impossible to hide.

I cleared my throat. “Uh… hey, you wanna… talk about it?”

Brody looked up at me. That sharp, shy glance that always made my chest ache. He tilted his head slightly. “Yeah… yeah, I guess we should.”

We talked, our voices low, awkward at first, over the moments we’d just shared. But the closer we got to analyzing it, the more my hands itched to touch him again. And his eyes — his eyes were betraying him, glinting with that same hunger I couldn’t deny.

Somehow, without realizing it, we ended up side by side on the bed. Clothes weren’t fully off, but the tension between us was unbearable. My hand rested near his thigh. His hand hovered over mine. And before either of us could stop it, we were jerking off together, glances and accidental brushes of fingers and thighs, moans muffled against pillows.

I groaned, trying to convince myself it was just curiosity, but the wet heat between us said otherwise. Brody’s eyes flicked to mine, dark, urgent, and I couldn’t resist leaning in, pressing my mouth to his shoulder, teasing the edge of his neck with my lips.

His hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me flush against him. Our cocks pressed together, slick and hard. I kissed his neck, sucked, nipped, and he moaned low, vibrating against my chest.

“Ethan…” His voice was rough, almost a whisper, but it set me on fire.

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. We were a tangle of limbs, hands exploring, mouths hunting, clothing half-shoved aside. Every time I tried to pull back and breathe, his fingers tangled in my hair, dragging me closer.

And then, inevitability struck. Hands wandered lower, and we were back there — lost in each other, bodies slick, desperate. The careful rationalizations of “heat of the moment” vanished as moans filled the room, echoing off the walls.

We didn’t stop until the bed creaked, our muscles trembling, breaths ragged, cocks finally spent but still twitching, skin sticky with sweat and pre-cum.

I collapsed next to him, chest heaving, heart pounding. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, expression unreadable but eyes soft, almost… content.

I swallowed, voice hoarse. “What… what do we do now?”

Brody rolled onto his side, facing me. His hand brushed mine, gentle this time. “I don’t know. But… we’ll figure it out. Somehow.”

Somehow.

And I already knew we wouldn’t be able to resist again.