The next few days felt like they belonged to someone else’s life. After what happened between Jake and me in the dorm room, I expected things to change. But Jake didn’t acknowledge it at all. He acted like nothing had happened, as if we hadn’t crossed that line, like he hadn’t taken control of me in the most intimate way. It was surreal—he moved on as if nothing about our friendship had shifted.

We fell back into our usual routine—classes, hanging out, hitting the gym—but I couldn’t shake it. The memory haunted me, creeping into my thoughts at the most random times. Part of me was relieved that Jake wasn’t pushing for more, but another part of me… hated that. Hated that it wasn’t happening again. The memory of his touch, his calm voice, the way he’d dominated me—it replayed in my mind on a loop, stirring something dark inside me that I hadn’t known existed.

I’d never felt this way before, wanting something I knew I shouldn’t want. I was disgusted with myself, yet at the same time, there was this strange craving I couldn’t deny.

“I’m a mess,” I muttered under my breath one night, staring at the ceiling, restless in bed. No matter how hard I tried to push the thoughts away, they clung to me, pulling me back to that moment. And I hated how much my body responded to the memory.

Then it happened again.

It was in the locker room at the gym a few days later. I had just finished working out and headed in to grab a shower. The familiar scent of sweat and the metallic tang of lockers filled the air. Jake was already there, leaning against a locker like he’d been waiting for me.

The locker room was nearly empty, just the two of us. Jake stood there shirtless, his toned chest slick with sweat from the workout, his breathing steady and calm like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. He wore loose sports shorts that clung to his body in all the right places, and I could feel the heat coming off him as he moved closer to me. My heart pounded, and it wasn’t from the workout.

“Did you miss me?” Jake asked, his voice smooth and playful, but with an edge to it—a sharpness that made my stomach tighten with anticipation. He pushed himself off the locker and stepped toward me, his eyes locked on mine.

I tried to act normal, tried to keep my voice steady despite the tension twisting inside me. “Not really,” I said, forcing a smirk, though my heart raced. I knew he could see right through me.

Jake smirked, that familiar look that made my skin prickle with both irritation and something darker, something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Turn around,” he whispered, though it wasn’t a suggestion—it was a command.

“Nonsense,” I shot back, trying to brush it off casually, but my voice wasn’t as strong as I wanted it to be. “Are you crazy? Someone could walk in any minute.”

Jake stepped even closer, his breath brushing my ear. “That’s why we need to be quick. You’re wasting time.”

I swallowed hard, feeling my control slip. “What are you going to do?” I asked, my voice quieter, betraying the doubt I felt.

“Not what you’re imagining,” he murmured, his smirk deepening. “At least, not here.”

Against my better judgment, I turned around. My heart raced in my chest, and I told myself I could stop this anytime. But I didn’t.

Jake’s body pressed against mine from behind, his heat radiating through me. He wasted no time. His hands moved with practiced ease, sliding down my back until they reached the waistband of my shorts. Without hesitation, he tugged them down just enough to expose me, his fingers grazing my skin. The cool air in the locker room contrasted with the heat between us, and my body tensed with a mix of fear and anticipation.

One of his hands slid down to my neck, the other wrapped around my dick, already hard despite everything I’d told myself. His grip was firm, but not rough, his hand moving slowly, deliberately.

“I felt bad about our last encounter,” Jake whispered, his tone almost gentle. “So I decided to give you some relief.”

His hand stroked me, slow at first, each motion controlled and teasing. I shuddered, hating how good it felt, hating that I couldn’t resist. But the more his hand worked me, the more I gave in, my body betraying my mind.

His other hand stayed on my neck, thumb brushing my hairline, a reminder of who was in control. It wasn’t painful—just enough to let me know I was completely at his mercy. And somehow, I liked that. I hated how much I liked that.

Then I felt something else.

As Jake stroked me, his hips shifted behind me. I felt him, hard and pressed against me, but not in the way I expected. He hadn’t pulled his shorts down. Instead, he had pushed his cock through the right leg opening of his shorts. I could feel it now, hot and stiff, rubbing against my ass. The fabric of his shorts didn’t do much to hide it—the head of his dick slid along the curve of me as he moved.

Panic flared for a second, my mind jumping to the worst conclusion: Oh God, he’s going to fuck me. But Jake didn’t push further. He just kept rubbing himself against me, his strokes on my dick getting faster, more insistent.

“Don’t worry,” Jake whispered, his voice low and soothing, though there was something dangerous beneath it. “I’m not going to fuck you. Not here.”

His words sent a strange wave of both relief and disappointment through me, and I hated how much my body responded. His cock was teasing me, rubbing against me without entering, while his hand stroked me harder, faster.

My breath came quicker, my mind a tangled mess of confusion and desire. Jake’s rhythm quickened, his strokes becoming more urgent, his body pressing closer until I could feel every part of him. I closed my eyes, trying to stay quiet in case anyone came in, but my breathing gave me away.

“Good boy,” Jake whispered, his lips brushing my ear, those two words sending a jolt through my body. His hand moved faster, his grip tight, the pressure building with every second. I was losing control. My knees felt weak, my body betraying me completely as he pushed me closer to the edge.

The tension inside me snapped all at once, and I came hard, my body shaking as I spilled into his hand. A flood of shame and satisfaction washed over me. But Jake didn’t stop right away. He kept stroking, slower now, drawing out the last waves of pleasure until I was spent and trembling against him.

Jake let go of me gradually, his touch gentle as he stepped back. I turned around, breathless and flushed, trying to process what had just happened. But Jake was calm, wiping his hand on a towel before tossing it aside.

“See? I told you I’d take care of you,” he said, his smirk never leaving. He glanced down at his own cock, still hard, pre-cum dripping from the tip. “You’ll take care of this later,” he added, tugging himself back inside his shorts with a casual, almost dismissive gesture.

Before I could say anything, the locker room door creaked open, and I froze. Someone had just walked in.

“See you later,” Jake whispered, flashing a smug smile as he grabbed his things and walked out, leaving me standing there, dazed and half-exposed, trying to pull myself together before anyone else noticed.