5. Forbidden pages

He prayed that he heard wrong, but he hadn’t.

“W-What?” Anderson blurted out, his heart hammering a hole into his chest, “I…I don’t, sorry. I don’t get…I’m sorry.”

Carl rose to his feet and Anderson’s breathless gasp made no sound.

“I’m quite persnickety and I never forget even the tiniest details.”

Anderson’s nerves jittered and his knees wobbled. He was speechless. His numb brain couldn’t produce any sensible reply for him to voice out.

Carl remained calm, his scrutinizing eyes making Anderson’s insides curl. He intentionally allowed his stare linger for a few more seconds, basking in the way Anderson shrunk like a tortoise into its shell. “Hmm,” he took a step closer, “There’s the hair,” he said slowly, dragging each word, “very familiar, same height, you walk the same way as him.”

Anderson cleared his throat and looked away, “You’ve got the wrong person, Carl.”

On his first attempt, he failed to swallow the lump stuck in his throat, but succeeded on his third try. His cheeks were turning red already and the beads of sweat began to run down the sides of his face. He was a bundle of nerves at that point, unable to portray the calmness that eluded him.

Carl suddenly shrugged, turned around and returned to his bed, much to Anderson’s relief. He sighed and walked to his own bed, giving his back to Carl. He arranged his neatly dressed bed and the more his gaze was away from Carl, the more his discomfort grew. When he turned around again, the brown book was covering Carl’s eyes.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbled to himself nervously, “what does Carl know?”

He rushed into the bathroom and there, the thoughts of that night flooded into his mind once more. He closed his eyes, allowing the cool water beat down on his body. The water that dripped down to his hips suddenly set his blood on fire and he could feel Nico’s strong hand, stroking his dick again. Nico’s commanding voice, making his body shudder under the vocal restrictions of his dominant and abstract sex partner.

Anderson’s hand slipped down his body and he had his hand wrapped around his fully erect cock. He had never done this before, had never even found the time to explore his sexuality due to the mountain of books he’d been reading, but now his hand stroked his dick softly, filling his body with a sizzling sensation of ecstasy.

“You’re moaning like a little girl,” Nico’s deep, mocking voice came to his mind again and Anderson stroked even faster.

“Oh, fuck…” he grunted, he squeezed the soap on the dish next to him, making his grip more slippery as he applied his soft palm on his dick again, straining his mind in a desperate effort to remember everything that Nico had said, “fuck…”

He could feel an outburst deep within him, springing to the surface and sending a cold wave into the fire that ravaged his entire body. He was restless, he stroked his dick faster, his lips hanging open, uncontrollable gibberish pouring out from his mouth. He imagined his hand was Nico’s. He used his free hand to caress his butthole as he kept stroking his dick, his index finger snooping around like Nico’s had done.

“Ah!” he bit his lower lip, feeling a chill satisfaction approaching in the midst of his warm, maddening desire. He crouched slightly as the white liquid ejected out of his dick in chasms. He closed his eyes as he stood under the running water, a feeling of guilt and wonder sinking into his brain.

He watched his cock slowly sleep down, water dripping from his hair.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he wondered, knowing fully well that he had actually enjoyed what had just happened.

Thankfully, Carl wasn’t in the room by the time he returned. Anderson couldn’t stop thinking about the jealousy that had tortured him when he had seen Keisha in the bedroom. No wonder Carl treated him like shit, he was the center of attraction, dating a girl like that had to come with a reputation boost.

Anderson was about to head to his desk and read a summary of the notes he had made during the lectures when his eyes caught something in the room. Resting comfortably on the bed, its sides spread evenly at the middle so that its backbone popped out, was the book Carl had been reading for days. Anderson stared at it and then his eyes shifted to the door.

Carl didn’t seem like the reading type, so what type of book would have him so hooked from start to the middle? From the look of it, Anderson could tell that it had to be more than five hundred pages. Why didn’t the book cover have a name? He wondered, his attention drawn towards it.

He shook his head and sat down on his desk. “Focus, Anderson, focus,” he mumbled to himself.

He picked up his notebook and pen. Anderson could read for six hours without stopping, but now, he could barely get past six sentences without looking at Carl’s book. His fingers suddenly started quivering and he kept tapping his pen on the small, wooden desk.

“Oh, who the fuck am I kidding?” he asked himself and sprang to his feet. He shifted backwards and gasped before holding his chair in place before it fell backwards.

His heart was thumping. He thought about locking the door, but that was going to be too suspicious. Each step he took towards Carl’s bed made his body stiffen. He knew that he was going to be in deep trouble if Anderson caught him with the book, but he couldn’t just ignore it. He took a deep, shaky breath and bent to pick up the book.

“It’s not right to evade one’s privacy, Anderson,” his father’s scolding voice dug out from his thoughts with a sound warning. “Drop it.”

“Drop it, Anderson!” Another voice shouted, making him wince slightly.

He was about to drop the book, when another part of him urged him to take a sneak peak at the contents of the book.

He flipped it over and the title of the chapter was the only thing his eyes caught.

Then, the door was pushed open.