Chapter Text
Cregan’s family founded Winterfell University.
In fact, his family founded the entire town and region.
They were Kings of Winter, once upon a time, and when Westeros began to modernize, they remained the Kings of Winter. They own the land, they own the industry, and they own the workforce. Ergo, despite whatever bullshit politics happens down south, up in the north, the Starks are in command.
Which is why it makes sense that at the end of his junior year, Cregan Stark—emphasis on the last name Stark—is elected president of his fraternity, Alpha Zeta.
(Yeah, they founded that, too.)
— AZ —
“Check it out,” Roddy says. “That’s the Targaryen kid.”
Roddy isn’t even in Alpha Zeta. He’s on the hockey team at Winterfell University with Cregan, though. Frats don’t usually let the athletes anywhere near their parties (especially football players—those dickwads are too much of a fucking liability because they never take no for an answer). But Cregan, like every Stark before him, plays hockey for Win-U. He plays hockey, he runs a frat, and everyone knows that one day, he’ll take over for his father at the helm of Stark & Co.
He’s big man on campus, so if he wants to invite his best defenseman to the house his ancestors built with their own bare hands while they’re rushing freshmen before fall quarter starts, he’s gonna invite his best defenseman to the frat (whenever the hell he wants).
Cregan looks to where Roddy is gesturing with his red plastic cup. “Where?”
There aren’t any white-haired twinks running around—but there is one with dark hair. Looks tall from where they’re standing up on the third-floor balcony (watching over the party so that Cregan can get a feel for what they’re working with this year), though he’s standing next to the pool with Cregan’s other best friend, Edric Cerwyn, and Cerwyn isn’t exactly tall. Well, he’s not terribly short, but he’s not six-foot-four and built from nothing but blood, bones, and muscle from the First Men, like Cregan.
The kid in question is hot. Long hair with loose curls. There’s product in it but not enough that a guy like Roddy would notice. It falls to his shoulders—long enough to get a fistful if you’re fucking him from behind, but not so long that it looks unkept. It’s easy to see that the kid knows how to act chill in a situation where some of his peers have already blacked out (it’s not even noon), because he’s got one hand wrapped around a red cup he’s only taken a couple of sips from, and the other shoved into his pocket all casual-like.
He’s not dressed head-to-toe in Brooks Brothers, either, unlike some of the other tryhards in the backyard. He’s got on a nice, clean button-up that hangs open, showing off his toned abs and a soft trail of hair running down the center of his stomach. A pair of J-Crew shorts that hug his ass like they were cut from the cloth and glued right onto his body, and understated boat shoes. He’s got a watch on, too, and Cregan would bet it’s one of those Apple Watches even if the kid has a Rolex or two back in his dorm.
He’s either old money, or knows how to act like it.
Alpha Zeta always welcomes old money into the fold (unless there’s a bad vibe or they’re fucking weird, of course).
“With Cerwyn,” Roddy grunts.
“What?”
“The Targaryen kid? Harwin Strong’s son? Strong? The captain of the Harrenhal Ghosts? Former defenseman for Win-U? Damn, Stark. Just because he ain’t from your family doesn’t mean he isn’t a legend,” Roddy says. He downs the rest of his red cup and tosses it aside. “I’m gonna go see if he’s still around. Didn’t you say he was an AZ back in the day? I bet he’s inside, looking around his old haunt. Would love to get a few pointers from Harwin fucking Strong.”
— AZ —
Roddy was right.
Cregan was right, too.
Jacaerys Targaryen-Strong’s hair is the perfect length for fucking. Cregan has it wrapped around his fist and is using it to force Jace to arch his back as Cregan pounds into him from behind. They’re in the frat live-out, which is an annex behind the main house, and Cregan is fucking Jace in his single bedroom up on the top floor right in front of the bay window.
President’s rights.
“Needy little slut,” Cregan growls, slamming his cock into Jace’s tight hole without an ounce of mercy. The bed shakes beneath them, squeaking loud with every movement, letting anyone on the floor below this one know that Cregan is busy.
It’s a Do Not Disturb sign via sound effects.
Jace lets out a little whimper, but doesn’t respond. Probably too fucked out, too overwhelmed by the sheer size of Cregan’s meat. They’ve been at it for awhile, what with Cregan having to work the kid open so that he didn’t hurt him or anything. He pressed Jace down onto his hands and knees for it, told the kid exactly what he was gonna do to him up here in his bedroom—and Jace eventually stopped forming real words when Cregan was three knuckles deep inside of him.
That’s fine, Cregan can do the talking for both of them.
And fuck, is he gonna talk.
He’s been inside of Jace for less then ten minutes and he’s already obsessed with the tight pull of Jace’s ass. Of how Cregan’s dick is just the other side of too big for the kid; of how with every thrust, Jace shivers because of how much he has to stretch to accomodate Cregan.
It’s captivating.
“Gods, your ass was made to be fucked,” Cregan growls, thrusting into Jace hard enough that his balls slap against the smaller guy’s backside, loud and wet.
Jace might not have followed in his daddy’s footsteps to the ice, but he sure as fuck hits the gym. Kid’s got an ass like a baseball player. Round. Thick. Pliant. Cregan wants to bury his face in it. Thinks he might have to at some point.
Not yet. He hardly knows Jace—but y’know… sometime.
On the next thrust, Cregan tilts his hips so that he can slam into him at a different angle. He knows the exact moment his cockhead slides across Jace’s prostate because the smaller guy lets out a high-pitched whine that sounds like a dream (one Cregan takes as a compliment).
“You like that?” Cregan grunts, slapping Jace’s ass.
The twink jolts forward, moaning—but he can’t get far. Not with Cregan’s hand fisted in his hair. And gods, does that feel good.
(The control.)
Being king.
The sun isn’t even down, yet, and Cregan is already balls-deep inside of the rushee of his choice. In fact, it’s so early in the afternoon that Jace’s daddy isn’t even gone, yet. He’s somewhere over in the main house, talking to Roderick about hockey shit while Cregan hammers his son from behind in a bed looking out over his own, personal kingdom (built inside of his father’s kingdom, which he’ll inherit one day).
“Fuck,” Jace groans, his shoulders shifting; one hand reaching down between his legs.
Cregan stops thrusting. He shoves himself into Jace as deep as he can and drapes himself over the twink’s body, reaches down to bat the kid’s hand out of the way so that he can feel for himself how drippy Jace’s cock might be. It’s wet as fuck. Cregan grins as he slides his thumb over the tip and Jace wobbles beneath him—shudders so hard that he’s forced to use both hands for balance again. Resumes his stance on all fours, just a twink at Cregan’s mercy.
“Wet,” Cregan muses directly into Jace’s ear. “Wet and leaking for me. What’ll you do if your daddy walks out into the backyard? Think he’ll look up and enjoy see his son being used as a fucktoy?”
Before Jace answers, Cregan pulls back to start thrusting again—but immediately misses the proximity, the faux-intimacy of his lips brushing against Jace’s skin as he speaks.
So he pauses again. Grinds into Jace’s ass until he’s filled the kid to the hilt and then tugs his hair even harder than he was doing before. He pulls hard enough that Jace flings his head up, and once the kid’s plush lips are pointed up towards the ceiling, Cregan bends over and kisses the boy.
Kisses him fierce as Jace clenches around Cregan’s cock so hard, makes the grip so tight, it’s like he doesn’t want Cregan to ever pull out of his little hole. So he doesn’t. Cregan kisses him thoroughly, licking into his mouth like he owns it (he might as well) and suckling on his tongue in a way that fills the room with sloppy, wet sounds. Eventually, he even slides the hand he has in Jace’s hair forward, resting his palm over Jace’s throat so that he can hold him in position with a better grip. Squeezes the kid’s windpipe a few times just because he can.
Jace whimpers but doesn’t resist. He melts beneath Cregan, lets the bigger man take his throat without begging mercy. Looks up at Cregan with half-drunk eyes, despite having maybe three sips of Natty from the keg before this.
“Fuck, look at you,” Cregan murmurs, palm spreading over the hot skin of Jace’s throat. “Gorgeous.”
“Oh,” Jace moans breathlessly, shivering beneath the praise.
It’s fucking adorable.
So adorable that Cregan starts thrusting again. But he doesn’t resume pounding into Jace like they’re running out of time. He switches it up. Fucks him slow and easy. He fills Jace with long, languid thrusts that drive his cock along Jace’s prostate and down so deep into the kid’s body that the entire root of Cregan’s shaft disappears.
His body vibrates with pleasure. So does Jace’s. He can feel it in the trembling of Jace’s asshole; see it in the quivering of Jace’s lips.
It’s good.
Really fucking good.
“Perfect little hole,” Cregan growls against the back of Jace’s head. “You like being used for a crude fuck in the middle of the day? You gonna beg for more after this?”
Jace presses his ass into Cregan’s body, a nonverbal request for more, and so Cregan gives it to him. Puts all of his weight into each thrust. It only takes a few hits of Cregan’s full bodyweight (six-foot-four, all two-hundred-and-thirty pounds of him raw muscle) for Jace to collapse onto his stomach with a whine. Cregan goes down with him onto the mattress and doesn’t stop fucking.
With Jace prone on the bed, trapped beneath Cregan, they’ve fallen out of sight of anyone in the yard, and the world closes in around them.
Cregan holds Jace’s head up just enough so that they’re jaw-to-jaw, so that with every slide into the kid’s ass, the stubble of his own cheek rubs across the smooth skin of Jace’s. He can hear Jace breathing, panting, can hear all of the little, soft sounds that the smaller boy makes as his body is forced to accomodate Cregan’s enormous size. Can feel every drip of sweat that falls from his own skin onto Jace’s flesh, and it’s intimate in a way that Cregan never realized two men fucking in broad daylight could be intimate.
And somehow, he needs more.
Cregan plants his other hand on Jace’s tight asscheek and uses it as leverage to fuck into the twink’s body as hard as he can, filling Jace to the hilt each time. It’s even more intense with the mattress below Jace, forcing the kid to take all of him instead of jolting forward. Their position allows Cregan to push his cock so deep that even Cregan—who normally never shuts up when he’s fucking someone—can’t form anything other than sounds. Grunts and moans and gasps as he grinds into Jace’s tight, snug hole.
Cregan doesn’t reverse a single thrust until his balls are pressed against Jace’s ass and the smaller man is whining. Cregan nearly is, too. He likes to fuck like this. Likes to feel the slow drag of his cock as he penetrates someone fully with his thick meat; forcing someone’s body into submission, taking exactly what he wants at the exact pace that he wants. They go at it for so long that Cregan has to reach for the lube again. Has to drizzle it down Jace’s sensitive crack.
Rubs it all over his luscious backside.
Gets back to fucking.
And Jace just lays there. Eyes half-closed, as if he knows better than to shut them all the way, cock shoved between his body and the bed, and his hands wrapped around Cregan’s arm—the one holding Jace’s head up by the throat—as if letting go might kill him.
Cregan isn’t one for romance, but it feels… close. Like they’re dissolving into each other. Like this kid is someone he can connect with, sexually, in a way he hasn’t connected with someone all summer. Definitely the best lay he’s had in awhile, and Cregan knows it’s true for Jace because of how responsive he is.
Every slide of Cregan’s dick across his prostate makes Jace’s breath catch and his ass clench; which makes Cregan’s balls quake and the pressure in his belly coil tighter. With every groan Cregan breathes alongside of Jace’s face, the smaller kid whimpers back, his body trembles, and his fingers press harder into Cregan’s wrist.
With every whisper of sensation that slips through one man, the other’s reaction is a tangible, visceral thing.
They’re in their own world of sex and sweat and hunger, driving towards that place of pure, carnal pleasure. And despite the sun and the party and the world outside of Cregan’s window, all he can think about is how delicious it feels to be wrapped around and tucked inside of the twink beneath him.
Cregan wants it to go on for as long as he can keep his orgasm in-check, but when he slips his thumb up into Jace’s mouth and the kid takes it between his lips so beautifully, Cregan loses it. He comes so fucking hard that he sees stars as he fills the not-yet-freshman’s ass with his seed.
(Fills the condom, really. Wishes he could take it off and toss it aside. Wants to see his cum leaking out of Jace’s ass, wants it trailing down his perineum, over the balls, onto Cregan’s mattress.)
But regardless, it feels good. Feels right.
And Cregan is such a nice guy that he doesn’t just collapse onto Jace like he sometimes does once he’s finished fucking. He rolls Jace onto his side (without removing his cock from Jace’s body), and jerks the smaller guy off as his own prick softens.
Sucks a hickey into his neck below his hairline, too.
Despite being fully dedicated to his life as a bachelor, Cregan has a possessive streak that spans as wide as The Wall. He may not want a steady partner, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to share. And so even if he never fucks Jace again—though, he will. With the way Jace is shivering beneath him? He will—he’s gonna leave a mark.
“You’re a good fuck,” Cregan murmurs, suckling at Jace’s neck as they bathe in the aftershocks of their deliciously mind-numbing orgasms. He strokes his palm up and down the kid’s chest; smearing Jace’s cum into the washboard abs. “Hot, too.” He thrusts lazily into Jace’s ass, though his cock is softening, and keeps his arms around Jace. Cages the kid’s smaller body beneath his until they’re both breathing normally again.
When they’re done, the sun is still shining and the party is still going.
Gods, Cregan loves his fucking life.
He’s gonna cap this lay off with a few ice cold beers. Judge some more incoming freshmen. Might even pull another fuck if he feels like it.
(But maybe not. He’s not sure he’ll be ready to wipe this lay out with a fresh memory before the end of the night.)
Jace doesn’t make any moves to get up and so they bask in the afternoon sun for a few moments before the shrieking of sorority sisters down at the frat pool pulls them both back to reality.
“I need to get back to it,” Cregan murmurs, pulling out of Jace slowly. The squelch of his cock is loud, and Jace shivers in the way that all people do when Cregan pulls his oversized cock out of their bodies.
He’s had women compare him to dildos before. It’s a point of pride.
But for as quiet and lazy as Jace was in the moments prior, he sits up before Cregan does. “You got a bathroom?”
Cregan wants to respond, but he’s too busy admiring the way that Jace’s ass looks like a perfect bubble on the edge of his bed. Maybe he’s been too hasty. Maybe he should eat the kid out before sending him back to his daddy and returning to his frat prez duties. Kid’s butt is so perky that Cregan might just bounce a golden dragon off it to see how far it’ll go. His meat thickens up a little at the thought.
A feat, because Cregan hasn’t even taken the condom off yet.
Jace turns to look at Cregan. “Big guy? Bathroom?” He stands up, his soft, wet cock hanging between his legs, his chest covered in his own seed; painted there by Cregan’s fingertips. “Nevermind,” Jace mutters, grabbing his shit. “I see it.”
Cregan tugs the condom off, ties it, tosses it towards the trash. He wipes his dick off and then rolls onto his back and throws his hands behind his head while he waits for Jace to finish up in the private bathroom (again, president perks). He thinks about stroking himself to hard. Going another round. He’s young enough that it wouldn’t take long, but his cock is only at half-chub when Jace comes out of the bathroom and nods at him.
Kid doesn’t even say goodbye, he just leaves.
Cregan frowns a little but brushes it off. He’s got a shit-ton of eighteen-year-olds to judge. Just because he fucked Jace once doesn’t mean he’s special.
(And it doesn’t bother Cregan that Jace doesn’t look at him later on during the party. In fact, it’s probably for the best. If Jace wanted special treatment, Cregan would have to give him the “you’re just a fuck” chat and he’s done that enough to last a lifetime. In fact, it’s refreshing that Jace doesn’t expect anything just because his body caught the eye of the frat president, just because his last names—plural—caught the eye of everyone else.)
An hour after Jace leaves, Cregan decides he’s annoyed at the hair product still sticking between his fingers, despite having washed his hands of it, and bails on his own party to take a cold shower.
(The sun is still up.)
— AZ —
Rush is always exhausting.
It’s not like the sorority rushes or anything, with doorbell chants and coordinated couture outfits and strict schedules that damn-near require an assistant to manage, but if you go to Win-U and you rush, you rush at Alpha Zeta—meaning every, single freshman that identifies as a guy comes through their doors at least once, and those numbers start to add up quick.
Start to give Cregan a fucking headache (which is why Cerwyn is in charge of that shit, not Cregan).
But it makes sense. AZ is the best frat on campus.
(Of course it is, it was founded by the Kings of Winter and has a Stark at the helm.)
It’s known up north that if you get into Win-U and you also get initiated as a brother into AZ, you’re basically set for life. Their alumni association takes care in setting up every, single brother with the right kind of internships and jobs throughout university—and with whatever they need post-grad to get their careers up off the ground.
Plus, they’re known for their ragers.
AZ’s house is the biggest on frat row. It’s prime property, too. Only the best for the Kings. Their backyard is completely cut off from the outside world—meaning they can throw parties that would get shut down at any other house and nobody can see them from the street.
Ergo, they never get busted.
So they do exactly that every night of the summer during the month before fall term starts. Field the recruits, pass out kegs and pay a cleaning service to take care of the shitshow they’ve got going on because it’s too early to let the potential brothers see what type of hazing goes on in-house.
(Not that they haze. It’s just… part of being a pledge. You clean up. Everyone knows that.)
But damn, acting president of AZ takes it out of Cregan. He shows up to lift with the Manderly brothers hungover and dead tired five out of five days during the week before school starts.
“Seven hells,” Medrick grunts, pulling Cregan up out of a failed squat. “You know pre-season lifting isn’t mandatory, right?”
Yeah, Cregan knows that. But he needs to get out of the frat every morning.
Needs to take the edge off, too.
“Leave him alone,” Roddy says, clapping Cregan on the shoulder. “He’s busy fucking every twink that walks through AZ’s doors so that he knows who to give bids to next week.” Roddy chuckles, the scars on his cheek from being hit in the face with one too many pucks (and fists) twisting beneath the laughter. “Probably got a few birds in there, too.”
Cregan doesn’t bother correcting his friend.
Roddy doesn’t need to know that he hasn’t fucked anyone else all month. That he hasn’t stopped thinking about the way Jace took his thick meat like a champ; moaned so pretty beneath him. Ruined him for the rest of the potential fucks and left without a goodbye.
(Doesn’t tell him that Harwin Strong’s son hasn’t returned to the frat once since Cregan fucked him into his mattress, either.)
— AZ —
He tells himself he’s not gonna do it.
And he doesn’t.
Why would Cregan fucking Stark give a bid to an eighteen-year-old kid who showed up for one house party and then decided he’d seen enough of The Alpha Zeta fraternity to make his decision based off of that?
So he doesn’t.
(Edric does.)
— AZ —
“You’re back,” Cregan grunts. He’s got a longneck Bud Light in his fist. Just one of the ways he likes to remind the potential brothers that they’re beneath him. Rushees drink from the kegs. A lot of brothers don’t mind the red cups, but Cregan drinks from the bottle and from his own stash of hard liquor—the one in the mini-fridge over in the annex. It’s filled up with top shelf shit that his dad bought him. Belvedere, Nolet’s, Patrón. He’s got some aged whiskey on the shelf above it, too.
Starks love their whiskey.
It’s the middle of the day again. Another pool party. This time, a mixer with Delta Gamma—meaning the backyard of AZ is filled with hot girls in tiny bikinis. A few of them look in Cregan’s direction. (More than a few.) It’s a reminder of who he is. What he is.
What he has at his disposal if he wants to get his cock wet.
(And yet, here he is. Standing in front of the twink that hasn’t said a word to him since they fucked. Never even asked for his number.)
Jace showing up means he’s considering accepting the bid. It would be uncouth to ask Jace if he has any other bids or if he’s going to pledge to AZ, so Cregan doesn’t ask. Besides, what does he care? They got the pick of the litter this year. All their bids are good options. They don’t need Jacaerys Targaryen-Strong to have the best pledge class. They’ll have it, regardless.
“Yeah,” Jace says, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. “Guess I am.”
That’s it.
That’s the conversation.
— AZ —
When they fuck, Cregan pushes Jace’s legs up into his chest so that the smaller man is forced to hook his arms around the back of his knees. It means Jace can’t reach for his own cock. Means that it jerks against his belly, helpless unless Cregan touches it.
Cregan doesn’t touch his dick right away. Doesn’t give Jace that sort of satisfaction. Not after he disappeared for a month or so.
Instead, he pins Jace against his pillows and kisses the kid as he fills him up. Fucks into Jace’s mouth with rough, wet strokes of his tongue as he fucks into his ass with much of the same using his dick. It’s satisfying knowing that it took him three fingers and half a bottle of lube all over again to prep the smaller guy for his prick. Satisfying when even after all that, Jace’s ass is still tight as fuck around Cregan’s meat.
“You take it so well,” Cregan praises as he bottoms out for the umpteenth time. He slides his mouth down Jace’s jaw, lets Jace exhale right into his ear. It’s intimate that way. Like they’re in a bubble, despite the party raging through the window before them. Every puff of air against Cregan’s ear is like a kiss, like something sweet amid the sweat and the salt and the intensity of their mid-afternoon fuck.
(It just slips out.)
“You take me so well, baby.”
“Fuck,” Jace hisses, and moves; drops one of his legs to reach for Cregan’s ass. Cregan shoves his palm against the back of Jace’s thigh so it doesn’t fall down as Jace digs his fingers into Cregan’s skin, and it’s decadent, the way that Jace’s long, thin fingers knead and roll at Cregan’s backside, tugging him closer. (Tugging him in deeper, as if Cregan can get any deeper.) “Fuck.” The words are mumbled against Cregan’s ear so soft, but so full of hunger for more.
“You like it when I call you baby?” Cregan grins against Jace’s neck as Jace’s fingers tighten with a silent response. “Does that make your little cock twitch?” He reaches between them and thumbs over the sensitive head of Jace’s dick and Jace lets out the most unearthly sound of pleasure. It’s a high-pitched whine that goes straight to Cregan’s balls. “Good boy,” Cregan moans, his hips stuttering as the kid beneath him convulses so pretty.
“Deeper,” Jace breathes, sucking Cregan’s earlobe between his teeth; digging his fingers into Cregan’s ass like he’s trying to physically pull Cregan further into his body. “Deeper, daddy. I wanna feel you in my throat.”
Cregan short-circuits.
But he lives up to the demand. He fucks Jace so hard that tears stream down the kid’s face, and when he pulls back to press his lips to Jace’s, to swallow the beautiful sounds coming from the twink’s mouth; the tears make their kiss wet and messy and delicious. His cock pulses with need, with desire. He feels greedy, like even though Jace is beneath him and he’s fucking him so good that even Cregan’s mind is going hazy, he doesn’t want it to end.
Might die if it does.
“A little desperate, aren’t you?” Cregan groans, unsure of who he’s even speaking to. “Need it so bad.”
“Yeah,” Jace sighs. “I do.”
Cregan reaches between them again and it’s so quick.
So easy.
Just a few sharp pulls and Jace soaks both of their stomachs with seed and overwhelms Cregan’s mind with his low, beautiful moans.
It’s so godsdamned good that Cregan doesn’t let himself come, yet.
He focuses on holding his orgasm back as he works his hand up and down Jace’s quivering shaft, rubbing his thumb across the wet tip as he milks the smaller boy senseless and slows the speed of his thrusts to a manageable level. Once Jace is limp beneath his fist, Cregan pulls out.
Captures the groan as Jace’s body reacts to the pull-out by quivering like a newborn foal learning to walk; twitching helplessly with the aftershocks of his own orgasm and the loss of Cregan’s cock. Cregan watches and consumes, the sounds and the sight and the sensation filling him up to the brim. He doesn’t touch Jace again, not yet, because he doesn’t think he’ll last if he does.
And he wants to finish this up in the bathroom.
(For no particular reason at all.)
“Up,” Cregan grunts once Jace has stopped physically reacting. “Shower.”
Cregan likes his bathroom. It’s fancy for a frat. There’s a skylight and shit so when he showers in the early morning sun, he doesn’t need to turn the lights on to see and can wake up slowly. He leaves them off, now. Closes the door behind Jace and pushes the smaller man up against the wall of the shower.
Creates a little world for them.
(It’s not like he was thinking about setting any sort of mood. He just… likes fucking when the room is dimly lit. It’s nice. It makes him more aware of his other senses; like touch. And his bedroom was too bright with the afternoon sun beating in through the windows. Too loud with the dayrager outside.)
Cregan turns the water on, but doesn’t get under the spray yet.
He shouldn’t do this.
It’s stupid. Stupid and dangerous, really. But fuck. Fuck, he wants it so bad.
“Are you clean?”
Jace looks up at him, half-drunk on sex; still coming down from an orgasm. He reaches for Cregan’s prick and palms it softly, as if he’s considering Cregan’s offer carefully. As if despite the fact that he just came and should have a clear head, he’s still attempting to push through the thick haze of arousal to do so. “Yeah,” Jace whispers. “I am.” And then he pulls off the condom.
Cregan shoves Jace up against the wall in the shower and cages him in by resting his forearms against the cool tile. He drizzles lube onto his dick while he mouths at Jace’s shoulder and whispers quiet praises. “So perfect for me, so pretty and pliant and soft. Such a good boy, letting daddy fill you up without anything in the way; letting daddy feel you,” Cregan murmurs, and when he enters Jace’s body, it’s intimate and raw.
So fucking intimate.
Hot steam from the water fills the room and Cregan stops speaking, just fucks into his twink silently.
Cregan's blood is hot in his veins, a flame burning along every inch of his body as he closes his eyes and latches his mouth over Jace’s pulse point; as he listens to the sounds of his balls slapping against Jace’s ass, to the boy’s soft “ungh, ungh, ungh” as he remains pliant beneath Cregan, allowing the bigger man to take what he wants—what he needs. And as Cregan drinks in the music of Jace’s heavy breathing and the wet, slick slide of his own cock into the kid’s body, he wonders if it’s like this for every fraternity king.
If every king has a consort to satisfy their unyielding, carnal hunger for flesh.
If every king has a twink with a lithe body and plush lips and moans so delicious that Cregan can taste the boy’s lust in every brush of his mouth over Jace’s flushed skin.
If every king has someone they’re pulled to by an invisible string; one that’s impossible to ignore.
Cregan isn’t sure he’s ever enjoyed the sounds someone else makes as much as he enjoys the ones Jace makes. The kid is responsive. With every touch, Jace shivers. With every kiss, Jace gasps. With every thrust, Jace presses harder into Cregan’s body; like he’s trying to fuck Cregan, too. Like he wants it as bad as Cregan does. Needs it like he needs oxygen in his lungs.
And the room is just dark enough that it feels… intimate again. Like there isn’t a rager going on outside of the annex. Like there aren’t a hundred drunk college students fucking around by the pool between the senior live-out and the main frat house. Like they aren’t two guys who hardly know each other, but two lovers who have been at this for a long, long time.
“Missed my cock, didn’t you?” Cregan murmurs into Jace’s ear when his balls pull tight. He presses his lips to the space below it when Jace doesn’t respond and sucks another mark into the kid’s neck. “You don’t have to stay away so long next time.” Cregan is already thinking of how he’ll fuck him again.
(And it won’t be as much time between fucks, because surely, Jace will secure Cregan’s number before leaving this time.)
He reaches around Jace’s belly and finds him half-hard again. Works him up to full. Slows his thrusts and his fucking until he’s got a heavy cock beneath his palm that matches the one in Jace’s ass. He’s lost all sense of time, but Jace’s dick is fucking dripping beneath his hand and his own is moments away from bursting.
“Come on,” Cregan whispers, the sound gliding through the hot steam; bouncing off the tile and coming back to Jace’s ear as Cregan speaks into their little corner of the world—one he’s carved out and created just for them. “Come on, baby. Give me another. Fill daddy’s hand with your seed; give me something to think about once you leave.” He kisses Jace’s neck again. “Go on, Jacaerys,” Cregan purrs. “Come for me. Fuck my hand like I’m gonna fuck your throat soon, baby.”
Jace whines like a needy, helpless slut. “Yeah,” he cries, “oh gods, fuck. Fuck.”
Cregan’s hips falter, his thrusts losing rhythm, and as Jace whimpers a fucked-out, helpless, ‘daddy’, Cregan fills up his boy’s ass with cum and returns to sucking Jace’s neck—sinking his teeth into the flesh before laving his tongue over the spot he’s bruising. He latches on because he wants to; but also so that he doesn’t shout and shatter their perfect world.
And it’s exactly that.
Perfect.
Cregan fills Jace raw. No condom, no barrier, nothing in between them. It’s carnal and delicious and it feels so fucking good that unlike his past three years at Win-U, Cregan already knows he won’t need another fuckbuddy all year long. Why bother with a roster of ass when the one speared on his cock is so perfect. Fit for a king.
King Cregan.
But as Cregan fills his boy with seed, groaning as his body flames with pleasure, he pulls back from sucking on Jace’s neck to breathe and notices something he didn’t when they were fucking face-to-face.
Another mark.
The hickey Cregan left Jace the first time they fucked has faded into a yellow-green hue… but right below it, there’s another. It’s red and purple. Like it’s fresh.
Cregan falters mid-stroke.
He’s still emptying his balls into Jace when it clicks in his head what that means.
Half of him wants to ignore it, but they’ve been fucking bareback—something Cregan never usually does—and he’s pissed. He has no right to Jace, but he just assumed, when Jace said he was clean…
He pulls out and Jace melts down the tile, probably expecting Cregan to catch him.
Cregan does. He catches him and shoves him up against the wall beneath the spray of the shower—beneath the water that is rapidly losing its heat, turning cold like the blood in Cregan’s veins. It’s a little rougher than he intended, but for fucks’ sake. “Who else?”
“What?”
Cregan shoves Jace’s hair out of the way and presses two fingers into the bruise that some other fuck left on Jace’s body, perversely enjoying the way Jace flinches away from the pain of the bruise being pressured. “Who else is fucking you raw?”
“Nobody, you asshole,” Jace hisses, pushing against Cregan’s chest.
Cregan doesn’t move. “You said you were clean and I just put my dick in you without a condom.” Cregan works his jaw. This is basic shit. He’s such a fucking idiot. “Who else?”
Jace smacks his chest. “Nobody. Else. Is. Fucking. Me. Bareback.”
“Then why is there a bruise the size of a mouth on your neck?”
“You don’t own me.” Jace digs his fingers into Cregan’s chest, gains purchase on the short, wirey hair there; and pulls. (It hurts. Cregan ignores that.) “I never said there weren’t other people kissing me, asshole.” Then he shoves Cregan backwards, runs his hand through his hair, and looks up at Cregan. “You’re kind of fucking mean, do you know that?”
Cregan glares at the twink. He doesn’t need this. He’s the President of Alpha Zeta. He’s a Stark. He’s a King of Winter and this is his fucking kingdom.
And he’s not mean.
He was just about to trash his roster for this kid in the year of his life when he can get any piece of ass he wants.
And for what?
Jace is just some Targaryen bastard from the south with rich parents, a famous grandfather, and a famous daddy that probably spoiled him rotten as a kid.
He doesn’t need this shit from Jace.
But Cregan doesn’t say any of that because Jace is already storming off, getting water everywhere as he jerks his clothes back onto his body and leaves Cregan’s room looking like a wet rat.
Cregan doesn’t rejoin the party.