Oliver’s New Roomie

 Waking up beside Sersei had done wonders for Oliver’s headache, but it had left him an erection from hell. No matter how much he tried to banish her from his mind, she would pop right back into his head. He swore he could still taste the nectar she had touched to his lips.

Walking home, he hoped to God the university hadn’t assigned him a new roomie yet because he intended to abuse himself vigorously. Halfway home he got a text from Stan asking about getting together for the upcoming long weekend.

Fortune seemed to smile down on Oliver for the moment, because when he got back to the dorm he was still sans roommate. Calling up the same pic of Sersei Oliver sent to Stan, he took matters into his own hands and unburdened himself, twice.

After liberating himself, Oliver grabbed a shower, luxuriating in the feeling of dousing his skull under the hot water. The nagging little suspicious voice resurfaced in the back of his head as if dredged up from the recesses of his brain by the action of the rejuvenating spray. Cam got three wrists and enjoyed a little drink with the Omega Pi girls, now he was gone. Bear Briar got three, now he too was gone. Oliver looked down at the three bands encircling his wrist. What did it mean? The situation was definitely tied into that drink, no two ways about it. There was no way he was going to take another shot of that even if he had to make a show of coughing and droll that stuff down his arm. The way each of the wristband owners told him he belonged to Omega Pi, maybe the girls were operating some type of a white slave trade ring? He chuckled at the absurdity of the thought mind drifting to what Sersei might looked like garbed in form fitting leather.

Choosing not to give himself another happy, he shut down the shower and grabbed his towel, drying himself off mostly before wrapping the towel around his waist and returning to his room only to find the gods of accommodation giveth and then they taketh, he had a roommate.

“Hey,” he blurted, stepping into the room.

“Shit man, you scared me,” chortled the other boy, a tall rangy youth about Oliver’s height, spiky brown hair adding an additional inch.

“Scared you?” Oliver chortled, moving over to his side of the room. “I wasn’t expecting to find somebody in my room.”

“Good thing I wasn’t rifling through your stuff. I’m Deacon,” said the other kid, “I’d come over and shake your hand, but it could get weird,” he added with a grin.

“Oliver,” he replied, slipping on a pair of black boxer briefs before removing the towel and hanging it up. Grabbing his jeans, he stepped into the right leg, then the left and pulled them up, fastening the button.

“You look like you’re in pretty good shape. You lift? Athletic scholarship or something” Deacon asked.

“No, not really. Well, not in a gym anyway,” Oliver replied, putting on a white t-shirt.

“Shit, sorry. I probably shouldn’t just be sitting here gawking at you while you are getting dressed. Is that creepy?” inquired Deacon, making a scrunched up face before looking away.

Chuckling, Oliver took out a pair of white sport socks from the top drawer of his dresser and sat down on the edge of his bed, slipping them on.

“Originally I was told the dorm rooms were all assigned and last minute this one came available so I guess there was probably another guy in here before me,” Deacon surmised.

“Cam Crawford, yeah, he is a good guy,” Oliver supplied, keeping his answers short and concise.

Eyes back on Oliver, “So, if not in a gym, how did you get buff, like just good genetics or something?” Deacon queried, trying to get Oliver to engage in conversation.

Shrugging, “I worked on a ranch, bailing hay, general labor and grunt work, that kind of thing,” Oliver replied. “A lot of physical stuff.” He left out the part about learning how to box.

“What’s the deal with the pink bands there?” Deacon asked, pointing at the trio of rubber accoutrements encircling Oliver’s wrist.

Looking down, “These? I guess you could call them tokens or symbols of affection from some of the girls at the Omega Pi house,” he replied, slipping on his running shoes and tying the laces.

“For real? Omigod Pi? Shit dude, I heard those sorority sisters are the absolute hottest girls here on campus! Your Kung Fu is strong, you must teach me o wise one,” Deacon said with a mock solemnity, bowing forward and extending his arms.

Chuckling, Oliver shook his head, feeling a little bad about being standoffish. Was it because this guy was new and interloping in his space, or was it because it felt too soon after Cam? Either way, Deacon seemed like a decent sort. “It’s no lie, all the girls I’ve seen there are very pretty,” he confirmed.

Straightening back up, Deacon grinned. “I’m from up the coast Oregon way, Port Orford along the coast. How about you, where is this ranch you’re from?” he asked.

“Few hours north of here, inland, just a little out of the way place no one has ever heard of,” Oliver replied, running his fingers through his damp hair to straighten it rather than use a comb.

“Cool,” Deacon replied, nodding appreciatively.

And so the conversation continued for the next couple of hours, the two young men sharing personal information. While Oliver shared his own background, he learned Deacon was the eldest of five children for adoptive parents. His financial situation seemed to mirror Oliver’s, small scholarship, student loans, but Deacon would definitely need to find a job for living expenses. Speaking of job, Oliver need to get to work. He left Deacon with a promise to show him around the campus and surrounding area the next day.