Upstairs in their dorm room, though, he felt oddly awkward. He pulled his jacket off and hung it on the back of his desk chair and stuffed the mittens and hat and scarf onto the chair. Then he turned around to look at Quinn, who’d done pretty much the same thing, and was now leaning on the back of the chair looking at Will.

“So . . . come here often?” Quinn purred, and Will burst out laughing.

He supposed part of it was nerves, because there was definitely a nervous tinge to the laughter, but Quinn only grinned at him and crossed the few feet between them to put his hands on Will’s sweater front. “It’s okay, bebe,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”

“You’re an oldest child, aren’t you?” Will asked.

Quinn blinked. “Yeah, but what does that have to do with the price of beans?”

“Nothing. You’re just kind of . . .”

“Bossy?”

“No, not bossy. Just kind of . . .”

“Bossy.”

Will grinned. “Yes, but in a very good way.”

“Then that’s okay,” Quinn said, and kissed him.

Will groaned and put his arms around Quinn, his hands on Quinn’s round rear. God, he was touching Quinn!

And then he felt hands on his bare back, underneath the sweater, and that felt even better—the hands were cool, but not cold, and they slid over his skin like water, soft and sweet and touching everywhere, everywhere. He pulled Quinn’s shirt from his jeans and echoed Quinn’s touch, tentatively stroking Quinn’s back. Quinn reached between them and fumbled open his jeans.

“Touch me,” Quinn murmured against his mouth, and Will eased his trembling fingertips beneath the loosened jeans so he was holding Quinn the way he was before, but with nothing between his hands and the firm, smooth skin.

He groaned again and pulled Quinn closer. “God. Quinn.”

“Shh,” Quinn said in his ear as he nudged his nose into Will’s neck. “We got time, bebe. We got all the time in the world.”

Quinn might have been bossy, but Will got plenty of chances to be bossy, too; they pushed and pulled and kissed and nibbled and pushed and pulled some more, until they were down to their shorts and lying on Quinn’s bed, wrapped around each other and panting. Quinn had his hand down Will’s underwear, his fist clutching Will’s dick, and Will was whimpering into Quinn’s neck, his hands tight in Quinn’s hair.

“God,” Quinn murmured, “you feel so good, so hot.”

The feeling of Quinn’s hand on Will was indescribable. Warm and smooth, except for the calluses on his fingertips that, when they rubbed on the tender skin of Will’s cock, made Will shiver in delight—Quinn’s hand was strong and gentle at the same time. It was like a weapon of mass instruction in the ways of sex. Will giggled to himself even as he arched into Quinn’s touch. “That’s amazing,” he breathed.

“Just wait ’til I get my mouth on you,” Quinn said against his lips.

This time it wasn’t a mere shiver—this time Will actually shuddered, his whole body quivering in anticipation and excitement. “Oh, God,” he whispered.

Then Quinn shifted his weight and moved down Will’s body, his mouth and tongue searching out all the most sensitive places on Will’s chest, his belly—and then Will’s shorts vanished with a quick tug. Quinn was lying between Will’s thighs, his nose buried in the hair at Will’s groin.

“Oh God,” Will said again. It was nearly a prayer. He eased his grip on Quinn’s hair, sliding his fingers through the soft curls, not pushing, just holding him, making contact with him.

Quinn mumbled approval into Will’s crotch, then his tongue came out and started licking at Will’s balls. Will gave a little shriek that sounded to his ears entirely too girly. Quinn chuckled, and the vibration against Will’s balls almost made Will squeal again.

Then Quinn raised his head, grinned at Will, and said, “Wanna see a trick?”

Will blinked in disbelief. “What?”

Quinn lifted his hand. Between his fingers he held a small, square packet . . . oh. Right. “Um,” Will said nervously.

“It’s okay,” Quinn said. He tore the packet open with his teeth, but then, to Will’s astonishment, put the condom in his mouth.

“What—” Will began, but Quinn bent his head and took the tip of Will’s cock in his mouth and slid slowly down, pushing the condom down with it. “Oh,” Will said. “Oh!”

Quinn looked up again and gave the condom-covered cock a long slow lick. “Flavored,” he said, grinning. “Banana.”

Will stared at him a moment, confused. Then what Quinn had said sank in and he started to giggle. Giggles turned into guffaws, and he lay back, laughing harder than he had in . . . well, forever.

As if the laughter loosened something in him, though, he found himself weeping even as he laughed. Quinn said softly, “No crying in baseball, Will I Am.”

“You’re crazy,” Will managed.

“No question,” Quinn said, and closed his mouth around Will’s cock. Will stopped laughing, stopped crying—just sucked in a huge breath and shuddered in arousal. “Oh my God.”

He went on saying “Oh my God,” over and over again as Quinn licked and sucked and hummed, setting Will vibrating himself. His hands went down to cup Quinn’s head again, his fingers tangling in the curls, trying to just rest there. He wasn’t sure about the proper etiquette of a blowjob, but he suspected that clutching Quinn’s head and fucking his mouth like he wanted to was probably not polite.

Too soon he felt the tightness in his head and balls that meant he was going to go off. He didn’t want to—he wanted to stay like this forever, with Quinn’s mouth making love to him. But he really wanted to come too. He wanted to come, and then take his turn sucking Quinn, tasting the other boy’s balls and cock, learning how to do what Quinn was doing so beautifully. He pushed awkwardly at Quinn’s head. “Let go,” he moaned. “Gonna shoot. Let go.”

Quinn laughed. “What, and miss the best part? Come on, bebe. Shoot if you’re gonna.”

It was that “bebe” that did it—before Quinn had even finished speaking, Will was crying out and filling the condom. It was better than jerking off, better than anything, hot and fierce and hard. He could feel his eyes rolling back in his head, and his ribs ached from the tension, and God, that was so good . . .!

He flopped back onto his pillow, listening to Quinn chuckling maniacally, and then Quinn was pulling off the condom and crawling between his legs, and damn if he wasn’t getting hard again. He groaned as Quinn braced his arms on either side of him and started rubbing his naked groin against Will’s come-sticky cock.

Quinn bent down and kissed him again, licking and sucking and stroking his tongue in Will’s hungry mouth. Will’s ribs hurt more as he rocked up against Quinn, but Will was beyond caring—his hands were fisted in the sheets and he sucked on Quinn’s tongue like it was a Popsicle—a tonguesicle, he thought, and laughed in his throat, even as the friction built between them until he was ready to spurt again.

Quinn was rocking and groaning harder and faster, and he released Will’s mouth to throw his head back and shout wordlessly. Will looked up at the long, smooth column of his throat, the beautiful arch of his chest and shoulders gleaming and slick with sweat, and cried out, “Quinn!” as he came again, even harder than the first time.

“Oh, God,” Quinn said, and collapsed on the bed beside Will, careful even in his postorgasmic exhaustion to land somewhere other than Will’s battered chest. Will wished Quinn had been able to collapse on top of him; he thought having Quinn’s body on his might just feel wonderful. But he appreciated Quinn being careful. Especially since he was hurting a little, particularly his lip.

He glanced up to see Quinn staring at him. “What?”

“You’re grinning like a fool. I’ve never seen you smile like that.”

“Really?” He guessed he was. It was probably why his mouth hurt.

Quinn said, “I don’t know about you, but that felt fan-fucking-tastic to me.”

“Me, too. I don’t— I can’t think of anything that ever felt so good. It was way better than jerking off.”

“Oh, bebe. There are so many things better than jerking off.” Quinn rolled to his side and propped his head up on his hand. “And a lot of things I haven’t even tried yet.”

“You’ve had a lot of boyfriends, I suppose.”

“Hey, where dat grin go?” Quinn asked softly, reaching out to touch Will’s cheek. “I ain’t had a lot of boyfrien’s, no.”

“You’re talking N’Awlins,” Will said. Quinn stared at him a moment, then grinned.

“Shit. I guess I must like you. I don’t talk like that with just anyone, you know.”

“I like it,” Will confessed.

“I only talk that way when I’m real tired, or real relaxed.”

“Which is this?”

“A little of both, I think. And really, I haven’t had a lot of boyfriends. A couple, but then I’ve been out and proud since middle school. Guy who looks as good as I do is always gonna have a boyfriend.”

“What have you done?” Feeling suddenly shy, Will dropped his gaze away from Quinn’s dark, amused eyes. “I mean, this kind of thing—”

“Oh, bebe, it’s good. This kind of thing. A few blowjobs, both ways, always with a condom, because my mama didn’t raise no idiots.”

“Oh. See, I don’t even know anything about that.” Will blew out a breath. “Have you ever . . . you know. Fucked?”

God, Will was cute. Pink had bloomed on his cheeks, offsetting the purple and blue of his healing bruises. He looked like a nervous little rainbow all on his own.

“Anal penetration?” Quinn said, just to see if Will got any pinker.

He was damn near scarlet now. Quinn laughed and kissed him. “No,” he said, “because my mama didn’t raise no idiots. I do want to, eventually, to see what it’s like, but I’m having too good a time to commit to someone, and I think that fucking is really something you should do with someone you love. Frot and blowjobs? That’s just having fun.” He cocked his head and regarded Will thoughtfully. “Are you gonna be the kind of guy who thinks that if he doesn’t get or give it up the ass he’s not really gay?”

Will blinked. “There are people like that?”

“Mostly politicians,” Quinn said. “And fundamentalist preachers. Bebe, you wouldn’t believe how many people think that. Sort of like Clinton and the whole blowjobs-aren’t-sex thing. As long as it’s consensual—somebody comes, it’s sex. Two people come, it’s good sex.”

“It was good,” Will acknowledged. He yawned. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m tired—I had two naps today.”

“It’s been a long day,” Quinn said. He eased down beside Will. “Just close your eyes and sleep awhile. I’ll be here.”

Will’s eyes drifted shut. Quinn lay watching him sleep, the dark lashes hiding those clear green eyes, the lines he’d never paid attention to before smoothing out in sleep. He felt guilty for not thinking about those lines between Will’s eyes; he’d always just figured it was a quirk of Will’s expression, but now he realized that they were from the constant, low-level stress that Will was under. Poor bebe. Quinn knew sex was great for relieving tension—he hoped that it had helped Will, too.

But it wasn’t just sex, was it? Not with Will. Oh, he wasn’t “in love” with him, whatever that meant. But ever since he’d met Will, he’d had this curiosity running in the background of his mind, like white noise—what would it be like with him? What made him tick? Could he possibly be gay, or at least bi? He’d figured not, not after rooming with him for nearly four months and never even catching Will sneaking a glance at him coming or going from the showers or changing clothes. Boy, was he wrong.

Quinn supposed that it was probably Will’s nature to be reserved, but it was Will’s father’s influence that made him so incredibly shy and uncertain. Coming from a boisterous family like his own, and being the oldest to boot, the idea of treating someone so badly that he retreated into a shell like Will’s just blew Quinn’s mind. It made him angry, furiously angry.

And then Will shifted and murmured something, and Quinn let all the tension go out of him and curled his arm under Will’s neck, drawing the sleeping boy’s head down onto his shoulder. Will was the one who needed to be angry, and right now he was just hurting. It was up to Quinn to keep him safe for a while, until Will was ready to deal with his father’s betrayal. Tomorrow, they’d spend some time with Quinn’s folks and show Will what a real family was like; then Monday they’d start checking into scholarships and grants and loans, to see what they could do about getting Will funding for the next semester and next year. The semester wasn’t officially over until the thirtieth, so Will’s cafeteria card and student insurance would still be good . . .

Quinn fell asleep mulling possibilities.