Page 31 of Unbound
"Yes, sir," I heard myself say. "Of course."
But even as I spoke the words, I knew I was lying.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure I cared.
7
ADRIAN
Itried to tell myself it was still a fun game.
Sitting in my room Thursday night, laptop open to a half-finished constitutional law essay, I replayed the week's encounters like highlight reels. Monday at the library—Jesse's fingers had trembled when he'd reached for his pen, and I'd caught him staring at my mouth when he thought I wasn't looking. Wednesday at the student union—how he'd actually argued back for about thirty seconds before retreating into that careful, practiced politeness.
But Tuesday at the gym? Tuesday was a fucking masterpiece.
I closed the laptop and leaned back against my headboard, a slow grin spreading across my face. Jesse had been so obvious, so desperately trying not to look while being completely unable to stop himself. The guy had zero poker face.
I’d positioned myself deliberately, of course. Leaning over him on the bench, making sure the tight grey fabric of my shortswas stretched just right. I’d given him the perfect, unavoidable view of exactly what he was trying so hard not to think about. And fuck, had he looked. Those blue eyes kept sliding down despite his best efforts, lingering on the obvious outline of my dick like he was memorizing every detail for a test he didn’t want to admit he was studying for.
"One more," I'd murmured when his arms started to shake, the vibration a low thrum against the bar. "Make it count."
I remembered the exact moment his control had snapped. The bar had dipped, pressing cold and heavy against me. A solid, undeniable weight against the length of my cock. And Jesse's eyes had blown wide, his breath catching in a stuttered gasp. The shock, the raw, unfiltered want in that look—it was better than any high I’d ever experienced.
The memory alone was enough to make me hard. Here, now, in the quiet of my room, the heat from that moment coiled low in my stomach, pulling tight. A throb, insistent and demanding, pulsed behind my zipper. My own breath hitched, the image of his flushed face and terrified, hungry eyes replaying in my mind.
Screw the essay.
With a low groan, I got up and locked my door before falling back onto the bed. I unzipped my jeans and freed myself, my cock already aching and slick with precum. My hand closed around my length, and I fell back against the pillows, closing my eyes. The fantasy was immediate and sharp: Jesse, pinned beneath me on that bench, his arms giving out not from weakness, but from sheer distraction. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, his gaze locked on mine as I leaned in closer, my voice a low murmur in his ear.
“You like the view, Jesse?”
His mouth would part on a silent, broken word. He wouldn’t be able to answer, but his eyes, dark with a mix of terrorand want, would flicker down to my crotch, then back to my face. A silent confession.
My fingers slid through the slick heat at the tip of my cock, and I stroked down the thick shaft, my own groan echoing the one I imagined ripping from him. In my head, I leaned down even further, my voice dropping to a whisper meant only for him. “You can look. Iwantyou to look.”
My pace quickened, my knuckles dragging against the rough denim of my jeans. I imagined my fingers brushing the sweat-slick skin of his chest, imagined the jolt that would go through him at the contact. The thought of his carefully controlled body betraying him, of his skin flushing and his breathing turning ragged just for me… it was the ultimate turn-on. It wasn’t just physical; it was the intoxicating knowledge that I was breaking him down. I was the one making his carefully constructed world tremble. I was the one showing him a truth his body couldn't deny, even as his mind screamed heresy.
I pictured him at the very end, that final, desperate look he’d given me before he’d fled the gym. Not just want, but a kind of hopeless surrender. It was the look of a man drowning and finally realizing he wanted to stop fighting the current. The look of someone giving in.
The image of Jesse's debauched expression—those blown pupils, that parted mouth, his whole body trembling with forbidden want—drove me over the edge with a force that punched the air from my lungs. My cock pulsed violently in my fist, the first thick stripe of cum hitting my collarbone with a wet slap before I could even react. The next shot landed higher, hot and shameful across my throat, the next splattering my jaw as my back bowed off the bed. I barely recognized the sound I made—something between a growl and a broken moan—as my hips bucked through the aftershocks, spilling ribbons of white across my heaving stomach until the mess glistened all the way down to my navel.
Fuck.Fuck.Jesse had me coming so hard I'd literally painted myself with it.
My hand still moved in slow, slick pumps, milking the last few drops onto my abs where they joined the sticky proof of how thoroughly he'd wrecked me. Chest heaving, I swiped a thumb through the cooling mess on my neck and brought it to my mouth before I could think better of it—salty and bitter andperfect, just like this dirty little fantasy of a devout boy coming apart under my hands.
I collapsed back, dazed. The bedroom room ceiling spun lazily above me.Christ.I'd jerked off plenty, but never likethis, never to the point of marking myself up like some kind of desperate teenager. Never with his name burning the back of my throat like a secret I couldn't shake.
One glance at the ruin of my torso—flushed skin streaked white, one stray drop cooling on my chin—told me everything I needed to know. This wasn't a game anymore. Somewhere along the way, the challenge had stopped mattering. The dare, the stupid challenge from Phoenix, all of it was irrelevant. What drove me now was that look I'd caught in Jesse's eyes. Not the panic or the shame everyone else would see. But therecognition. Like when our gazes locked, he wasn't just seeing me—he was seeing a version of himself he didn't know he was allowed to be. There was hunger there, yes, but also something deeper: a silent, desperate question.Is this who I am? Could I be this?And underneath it all, the suffocating weight of a cage he didn't know how to escape. I wasn't just lusting after him because he was gorgeous or forbidden. I was obsessed with the person I could see trapped behind those careful blue eyes—and the growing certainty that I was the one who could help set him free.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling me from my inner haze. It was a text from Diana:
Movie night downstairs. You coming?
I took a deep, steadying breath. Right. Real-world. Friends. Part of me wanted to stay here, lost in the potent satisfaction, but the buzz of the phone was an anchor.
My phone buzzed again with a notification. A news alert from the university:Campus Pride Celebration Announced for Saturday, April 23rd.
I clicked through to read the full announcement. The usual stuff—speakers, booths, music, food trucks. A celebration of LGBTQ+ identity and community on campus. The kind of event that usually brought both supporters and protesters in equal measure.
