Jeremy and Ian were in Jeremy’s dorm room, sitting at his desk pushed up against the wall, Jeremy frustratingly trying to drill the fundamentals of chemistry into Ian’s head. It was no easy task.
‘See,’ Jeremy said, ‘when a base and an acid–’
‘Hey, why don’t we take a break?’ Ian interrupted. ‘My head is spinning.’ He slapped Jeremy good-naturedly on the shoulder, almost knocking the studious young man’s glasses right off his face.
Jeremy was small and slender, with dark, velvety skin and a delicate, fine-featured face, intelligent brown eyes. The exact opposite of Ian, in other words, who was a blond-haired behemoth with a boulder of a head and a jutting granite jaw, grey eyes, freckled skin, a muscular body built for the defensive line of the college football team, where he really excelled. The mismatched pair had come together thanks to the university-mandated tutoring requirements it bestowed (or belaboured) on its more brainy students, to help out those less academically but more athletically gifted.
Jeremy sighed and set down his textbook and scientific calculator. ‘You’ve got an exam coming up in a week, you know,’ he reminded the buzzcut giant.
‘I also got a football game coming up on the weekend,’ Ian countered, scooping a pigskin up off the floor of the dorm room. ‘What say we chuck the old ball around, huh? Loosen up the muscles – brain and body.’
‘The human brain doesn’t have any muscles. It’s–’
‘Come on!’ Ian’s whack on the back sent Jeremy sprawling across the table.
Out on the grassy field in behind the old dorm building, Ian heaved the football to Jeremy, a tight, perfect spiral despite the big guy’s ham-fisted approach to the game. The ball passed through Jeremy’s tentatively extended arms and punched him square in the chest, knocking him backwards onto his butt. Had his eyes been open he might’ve had a better chance of catching the ball, perhaps.
As it was, the football rebounded off the tumbling young man at a right angle and bounded all the way down the bank of the river that ran alongside the university.
Ian lumbered over and grabbed one of Jeremy’s small hands in one of his huge mitts, heaved him to his feet, just about wrenching the science major’s shoulder out of its socket. ‘You almost caught that one,’ Ian said. ‘Next time, use your hands.’ He grinned solid white rows of teeth and jogged over to the riverbank, down.
Jeremy stood in the early-evening sun rubbing his chest, the grass stains out of the back of his pants. He looked at the watch on his thin wrist, wondering what was taking Ian so long. The guy seemed to be moving even slower than his comprehension of elemental chemistry.
It was a warm night, perfect studying weather. Jeremy had an exam of his own to ace in physics in two days. So, finally, after at least one minute had passed, he threw up his hands and trotted over to the riverbank, looked down.
Ian was stretched out on the grassy flat at the water’s edge, flat on his back.
Jeremy snorted and scrambled down the bank, stood over the sunbathing giant. ‘Playtime is over, Ian. We have to get back to work.’
One of Ian’s eyes popped open. He squinted up at Jeremy. Then one of his thick arms reached up, hand gripping Jeremy’s wrist, pulling the man down onto the grass next to him. ‘Hey, lie down a sec and enjoy nature,’ he rumbled. ‘That’s biology, right?’
Jeremy was thrown onto his back on the soft, warm bed of grass. ‘We aren’t studying biology, Ian,’ he grumbled, scrambling to get back to his feet and into his textbooks.
Ian rolled over on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He grinned in Jeremy’s face, eyes twinkling, huge, heavy body enveloping Jeremy’s small, thin frame. ‘Anytime you want to get up, just go ahead and try,’ he teased.
Jeremy squirmed, twisted, wriggled, but it was no-go. The solid mass on top of him was unmovable, the muscled arms locking his arms up over his head unbendable. Sweat bathed his face, and he blinked it out of his eyes, looking up at Ian looming large above him.
And then both young men felt what all of Jeremy’s struggling against Ian’s hot, hard body had really wrought – a raging erection in Jeremy’s pants, pressing up against Ian’s groin.