At one point, as Roddy was making his way back from the kitchen with a beer, he felt someone grab the back of his waistband before he could reenter the living room. He hadn’t noticed anyone else in the dark, narrow hallway. Roddy froze, aware that any false moves would end up with the last of his modesty slipping away.
“Have you seen her?” a voice lowed. It was Christian, his baritone unmistakable.
Roddy felt a finger force its way between his ass cheeks, slipping easily into his still-loosened hole. Roddy retreated deeper into the hallway to get out of view of the living room, Christian’s bony finger sliding ever further up inside him.
“Who?” Roddy asked.
As if angered, Christian slid another finger inside, vigorously thrusting against the walnut of Roddy’s prostate. “Caroline,” he hissed.
Of course. The woman who started it all — if Roddy hadn’t hooked up with Caroline (never mind that he wasn’t even able to get it up at the time), he’d never have provoked Christian’s jealousy and the subsequent sex games.
“No, I haven’t,” he answered, panting from the stimulation.
Christian made a frustrated grunt. “She can’t not be here!”
He increased the intensity of his probing; Roddy’s eyes went starry.
“If you see her,” he hissed, “call me and over and say, ‘I hear you went to high school with my friend, Christian.'”
Roddy’s mind was racing. “Why not just talk to her yourself?”
“I need an in. If she thinks I’m friends with someone like you…” Christian trailed off. Roddy didn’t need him to say it — Christian wanted to shed his reputation as an isolated weirdo and start fresh for a chance at wooing his longtime crush. He’d said as much before.
Christian pressed firmly against Roddy’s P-spot, leading Roddy to let out a high-pitched whine. With that, Christian removed his fingers and huffed back out into the main room.
Roddy looked down and saw that precum had wet the front of his jock, creating a small but semi-transparent window. Christian never wasted an opportunity to fuel his humiliation.
He made his way back into the living room, where everyone was dancing, flirting, and in some cases, making out or more. Tony and Kevan were playing beer pong with Zach and Bobby; Lance was standing off by himself, scanning the crowd. He caught Roddy’s eye and gestured around the room, a quizzical and concerned look on his face. Roddy only shrugged and shook his head, unable to help Lance find who or what he was looking for.
To Roddy’s surprise, Christian was leaned against a wall chatting up two very pretty KD girls. His demeanor had completely changed from just a moment ago, an easy smile gracing his strong jaw. In the party lights, with that grin and a twinkle in his eyes, Christian looked like your run-of-the-mill hot frat boy, instead of the dour menace Roddy had come to know.
Roddy watched as one of the girls placed a hand on Christian’s chest — Christian almost recoiled at her touch. Roddy wondered how many chances at sex and romance Christian had passed up thanks to his obsession with Caroline Hunter.
Just then, Christian turned and met Roddy’s gaze, beckoning him over. Roddy’s stomach sank, but his dicklet rose, wondering what Christian had in store for him next.
He made his way over to Christian and his new friends, a short, slight blonde and a busty redhead.
“Do you girls know Higgins?”
The redhead responded, “Only by reputation,” casting her gaze at the poorly filled out front of Roddy’s jockstrap.
“This is Lily,” Christian introduced, gesturing towards the redhead, “and this is Alyssa. They were just telling me that they’re bored and want to play a game.”
“A game?” Roddy asked.
Lily nodded, “I wanted to play stack cup.”
“And I want to play strip poker!” Alyssa added.
“So we all agreed on strip poker,” Christian summarized. “A classic frat-srat mixer game.”
“Uh,” Roddy grew redder, “I think I’m okay, guys. I’m already pretty ‘stripped’ as it is.”
“Oh come on, man,” Christian responded, “you have to play!”
To an innocent bystander, it sounded like Christian was friendlily encouraging Roddy to join them. But Roddy knew he had just received an order he couldn’t refuse.
He offered a weak smile in response to the cheers of encouragement from the girls. The SPH brothers had finished their beer pong game, so Lily went over to claim the plastic table, clearing off the cups and wiping off the sticky beer residue. Meanwhile, Christian grabbed some folding chairs to arrange around the table. Alyssa disappeared and came back with a deck of playing cards.
As the group settled in around the table, Kevan approached and asked, “What are you guys doing?”
“We’re playing strip poker!” Alyssa told him cheerfully. “You should join us!”
“You should definitely join us,” Lily agreed, eyeing Kevan up and down greedily.
Kevan met Roddy’s gaze; Roddy just shrugged. “Up to you.”
“Sure,” he decided, still hesitant. Kevan pulled up a stool and sat between Roddy and Lily.
“So,” Alyssa began to explain, shuffling the cards like a seasoned dealer. “Here’s house rules. No need to bet, no need to fold. Whoever has the worst hand each round has to remove an item of clothing. Socks and shoes go first, then your top, then bottoms, then your underwear. For Lily and I that’ll be our bras and our panties. The last person to not be totally naked wins the game.”
“What happens if you’re already naked and lose a round?” Kevan asked.
Alyssa grinned. “You’ll have to do a forfeit! The dealer of the hand decides what exactly the forfeit is.”
“Wait,” Roddy protested. “I don’t have enough clothes to keep up — I have no pants.”
“We can just do your socks and shoes separately,” Alyssa shrugged.
“Actually, I think you do have a fourth item to take off,” Christian countered. Then he leaned into Roddy’s ear and whispered, “You better hope you lose, because this is your chance to get your cage off. Otherwise, it’s four more weeks.”
Roddy’s heartrate soared. “Oh, Christian’s right. Never mind.”
Kevan turned to look at Roddy, a small horror in his eyes. Roddy didn’t know whether to throw the game and liberate his cock, or fight against yet another public humiliation. He wasn’t that great at poker to begin with; ultimately, his fate lied in the cards.
“We’re playing Texas Hold ’em,” Alyssa told them.
They tossed in their “antes” while Alyssa dealt out the first hand with blinding speed and precision. She was clearly an experienced cardplayer. Roddy looked at his hand: two sevens. Off to a good start.
Kevin lost the first round with a king high. He peeled off his socks and sneakers, revealing his size-14s. Everyone was relatively quiet, anxious to get into the late game.
After a few more rounds, everyone had lost their shoes and Christian had lost his shirt, his ghostly skin and thick, dark body hair on display under the flashing colored lights. He looked almost statuesque in this lighting, the sharp angles of his chin and collarbone pleasingly accentuated.
A small crowd had gathered to watch the game unfold, an equal mix of men and women. Roddy started feeling uneasy, but he was on a solid streak of good hands. If his luck held out, he could preserve some modesty yet.