Pinky Swear

...Lane half-dragged, half-walked Matt down the hall to their dorm apartment as he dug the keys out of his jeans pocket.

Matt giggled, hiccupped and staggered, as his knees gave out again.

“Damn, Matt, you weigh a ton.” Lane shifted his grip on Matt’s waist and lurched the rest of the way to their door. He leaned Matt against the wall, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

Matt started to slide downward, a goofy grin on his face. “Oops!” He waved his arms at Lane.

Lane grabbed him and pulled him up, then dragged him into the apartment, and kicked the door shut behind him.

“Just one drink, huh?” Lane had never seen Matt drunk. Never. Not even graduation night at the senior party.

Matt stared into Lane’s eyes, and Lane couldn’t look away.

“Sorry, Lanie, but it’s the end of an era, man. You and me together. No more. No more.” Matt shook his head and, for one crazy moment, Lane thought Matt was going to burst into tears.

Instead, in an even crazier moment, Matt pushed Lane against the door, using his arms and body to pin Lane there.

“Lanie, I can’t believe our time is up. Five years.” Matt’s breath puffed against Lane’s face, and the smell of the whiskey he’d imbibed made Lane wonder what he’d taste like if they kissed. Matt, so serious, so sad, reached up and stroked Lane’s face with his fingers as he pressed his forehead against Lane’s.

Now Lane’s eyes burned with tears. The thought of Matt finally leaving, walking away from him, going to the West Coast and living out his dreams without Lane by his side, destroyed Lane.

“I know. It’s too soon.” For Lane, a hundred years would have been too soon.

“Too soon.” Matt nodded, then lowered his head. “You’re the best, Lanie. Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

Lane didn’t know what to say. All he’d ever done had been purely selfish, to keep Matt with him. Matt had done the hard part—passed the courses, worked like a dog to pay Lane’s parents back, excelled in his classes.

Matt’s intent gaze fell to Lane’s mouth. Lane’s stomach whirled away as the surety of what might happen next hit him. He froze, terrified to do something that might change this, and terrified to let it happen.

Matt’s lips brushed his, just the slightest, most tender touch imaginable.

Lane closed his eyes and raised his face to Matt, letting him know it was okay. It would be fine. It would be the best kiss of his entire life, just because it was Matt.

“Lanie,” Matt whispered.

Lane thought he’d lost his mind; he heard such longing and desire in Matt’s voice. Man, Matt must be really drunk. Maybe Lane was the one who was drunk and imagining things.

But, selfishly, Lane didn’t care. He waited, pinned against the wall, his cock stirring in just the anticipation of a stupid kiss.

Matt came down on Lane’s mouth, and Lane’s cock stiffened in his jeans. When Matt ran his tongue over Lane’s lips, he opened them, and Matt’s tongue bullied its way inside. Lane went wild as it stroked and caressed and tasted.

Matt slid his hand up, twined their fingers together, holding him to the door, and buried his other hand in Lane’s hair.

He broke their kiss. “Lanie.”

“Matt, oh, God.” Lane melted against Matt. And, oh, my God, Matt’s dick pushed back into his belly, erect and demanding.

Now they kissed, open mouthed, as Matt ground against Lane’s body, desperately pulling at his mouth, eating from it as if he were starving. Lane had never, not with David or any other guy, been so hot and bothered, so turned on, so ready to beg to be fucked.

If this is what happened when Matt got drunk, Lane wished it had happened more often. Wished he’d been with Matt every night since they’d started college.

What a waste of time, he wanted to cry out, frustrated and angry that they couldn’t have had this, this passion, until now. At the end...