My College Bully Invited Me to His Hotel Room p4

>*All characters in this story are 18+*

Quick Summary**:** *Noah reunites with his college bully, Wes, who humiliated him years ago—and now wants to talk. Wes tricks Noah into his hotel room, confesses he bullied him out of fear of wanting him, and the tension erupts into a desperate kiss. Afterward, Wes takes control, giving Noah a blow job, and things escalate when Noah ends up on his knees for Wes—only for Wes's best friend to walk in.*

Wes lay back slowly, towel still clinging low on his hips, legs spreading like he was getting comfortable — like this wasn’t the same guy who used to smirk at me across lecture halls and whisper shit with his friends behind his hand.

Now?

His thighs were open for me. Muscles tense. His cock twitching beneath the towel.

And I was on my knees between them. I kissed the inside of his thigh — slow, soft, teasing — right where the skin was warm and smooth and vulnerable. I heard him exhale, shaky, like he didn’t trust himself to speak. My lips brushed higher, and I felt his cock jerk against the fabric.

“Fuck,” Wes muttered, one hand sliding over his abs. The other dropped to the bed beside him. “That mouth is dangerous.”

I smirked, letting my hands roam up his thighs, then across his hips, palms warm against his skin. I ran them slowly up his chest, feeling his pecs twitch under my touch, brushing lightly over his nipples.

Wes’s breath caught. His eyes locked on mine. And then — that grin. Crooked, teasing, familiar.

“You’re really down there trying to suck my dick, huh?” Wes said, breath hitching, eyes dark with disbelief. “After all those years... now you’re just down there, *eating it up*.”

His voice was half-mocking, but there was something else under it — something breathless. Like even *he* couldn’t believe what was happening.

I glanced up at him, letting my fingers graze the edge of the towel draped dangerously low over his hips.
“Mm,” I murmured, voice lazy. “To be fair… *you* were the one gagging on *me* earlier.”

Wes blinked.
Then — he laughed. One short, stunned burst. Like I’d sucker-punched the wind out of him. He ran a hand over his face, head tipping back on the pillow.

“Touché,” he muttered, smirking at the ceiling. “Fuck.”

His eyes cut back to mine, sharp again.
“Looks like I was right in college after all.”

I narrowed my eyes, lips quirking. “Oh yeah?”
He raised a brow, smug. “You *did* wanna suck my dick.”
I huffed out a laugh, low and dirty. “Please. If anything, you wanted to *make me*.”

Wes shrugged, cock twitching beneath the towel.

“Same difference.”

My fingers slipped under the fabric, tracing the line of his V slowly. I leaned up, dragging my lips across the skin just above the towel’s edge.
“God, you’re such a cocky asshole,” I whispered.

“And you’re still on your knees,” he shot back, breath catching as I pressed a soft kiss to the inside of his thigh.

I didn’t answer. Just slid my hand higher, letting my palm smooth up his chest — across the flat muscle of his pec, over his nipple. He shivered.

“You’ve been working out more,” I murmured, almost to myself.
“I was always jacked,” he said, but his voice was shakier now.
“Not like this.”

Wes’s abs twitched under my fingers. I dragged my touch back down slowly, brushing along his side, feeling the heat rolling off him. My mouth followed — kissing his stomach, nuzzling softly against the skin just beside his cock, still trapped under the towel. His hips lifted a little. Unconscious. Hungry.

I met his eyes again.
“Take it off,” he said.

So I did. Tugged the towel away slowly, like I was unwrapping a gift I’d waited years to touch. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, already leaking. My breath caught. He watched me watching him, eyes locked on mine like it was too much — like he didn’t know how to process the way I looked at him now.

I leaned in, kissed the base of his shaft. Let my tongue flick out, just enough to make him twitch. My hand curled around him gently.

“*Fuck, Noah,*” he gasped. “Your hand…”
His voice dropped to something raw. “It’s so soft.”

I stroked him slowly, feeling him pulse in my grip.
“I hate to admit how much I’ve been wanting this,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to.
I lowered my mouth to his balls, kissing one, then the other, then taking one into my mouth gently. My hand kept moving on his shaft, slow and steady, just enough to keep him on edge.

Wes groaned — long and low — and let his legs fall wider apart.
“This feels..., Noah, this is insane.”
He slid a hand into my hair. Not pulling. Just anchoring.

I switched sides, now taking the other ball in my mouth, letting my tongue roll under it, wet and soft. His hips jerked up slightly, involuntary. I tightened my grip on his cock, pumping him a little faster.

Wes moaned. It tore out of him, breathless and shaky.
“You’re so fucking good at this,” he panted. “Jesus. I can’t—”

*Click.*

A sound.

Not from him.

Not from me.

The unmistakable, heart-stopping sound of a keycard sliding through the door. Wes’s entire body jolted. “Shit!” he gasped, scrambling upright, yanking the towel back over himself.

I pulled off him in an instant, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, heart hammering in my throat.

The door creaked open.
Light spilled into the dim hotel room.

And then—

“Yo, you in here, bro?”

Wes’s face drained of color.

I turned toward the door just as a tall figure stepped inside. Gym bag slung over his shoulder. Muscles straining under a tank. Blonde hair. Big grin.

Ryan Evans.

Wes’s old jock buddy. His hotel roommate. And apparently… not gone for the night after all.

Ryan took one look at me — shirtless, flushed, kneeling between Wes’s open thighs — and stopped cold. His eyes dragged from me to Wes. The towel barely covering anything. Wes’s cheeks red. His chest rising fast.

Then Ryan let out a low, disbelieving laugh.
“Noah?” he said.

Silence.

He grinned wider. “*Bro.* Were you—?”
He cut himself off with another bark of laughter.

“Were you blowing him or something?!”