The Party
It was Saturday night, and Omega Sigma Delta’s house on Fraternity Row was a hive of debauchery. The noise from the party could be heard all the way down to the end of the block: a cacophony of thudding bass and chattering voices occasionally interrupted by a drunken howl of laughter.
Aiden Blackwood—slim, dark-haired, dressed all in black, and on the wrong side of thirty—didn’t exactly blend in with the crowd. He moved slowly from room to room, shouldering his way through drunken co-eds where necessary, carefully scanning faces as he went.
So far, no sign of Hailey Stanton.
Hailey’s parents had hired Aiden to locate their nineteen-year-old daughter, now ten days missing. By all accounts the last place she’d been seen was here at the Delta house, during a party more or less exactly like this one.
Missing persons weren’t exactly in Aiden’s wheelhouse. But he’d crossed paths with Hailey’s parents while looking into sightings of unusually large spiders on campus—sightings that centred around Fraternity Row. The coincidence had been too much for him to ignore.
An inebriated student crashed into Aiden, splashing some of her drink onto his shirt. Aiden rolled his eyes and gently moved her aside so he could make his way into the kitchen.
He was definitely too old for this.
Aiden snagged a kitchen towel and began to pat the stain dry. A closed door at the far end of the room—presumably leading to the basement—caught his eye. He crossed to the door and tried the handle, but it was locked.
There were, of course, many non-nefarious reasons for a door in a frat house to be locked. And more than a few nefarious ones.
As Aiden contemplated the door, a low voice behind him said, “What are you doing?”
A man somewhere in his early 20s stood at the entrance to the kitchen, with an ease that suggested he was one of the older members of Omega Sigma Delta. He had the build of a linebacker, broad through the trunk and shoulders with thick thighs and big, meaty hands. The sleeveless shirt he wore was cut low in the neckline and under the arms, revealing the soft swell of his chest muscles and the curve of his sturdy waist.
Aiden offered the man a shy smile and playfully waved the kitchen towel at him. “Some girl spilled her drink on me.”
The man stepped closer. He had a few inches on Aiden and was nearly twice as broad, looming over him with a warm solidity that made Aiden feel hot all over. His eyes trailed indulgently over Aiden’s face and body, no doubt taking in the delicate features of his face, the soft pink of his lips, the sharp contrast of the tattoos on his neck against his pale skin.
“I’m Shane,” the man said.
“Aiden.”
Shane licked his lips, sending a jolt right down to Aiden’s groin.
There were parts of the house, like the basement, that were clearly off-limits to guests—unless those guests were in the company of the Deltas. Sticking close to Shane was the prudent option. And it would hardly be a tragedy if Aiden got off in the process.
Shane closed the distance between them. His full lips hung slightly open; there was a faint burn of alcohol on his breath, a hint of stubble across his square jaw.
Aiden tipped his face up to meet Shane’s in a slow, tentative kiss.
Shane made a pleased noise, moving his lips forcefully against Aiden’s; the heat, the presence of him was overwhelming, his stubble scratching against Aiden’s chin, and Aiden opened his mouth, melting into it. Shane breathed harshly through his nose as his tongue swept past Aiden’s parted lips, licking possessively into the kiss. Those big, thick hands wrapped around Aiden’s waist, warm even through Aiden’s clothes, grabbing at him hard and eager as they slid down to his hips, palming his ass. He tugged Aiden’s body tight against his own, and a low, hungry noise fell from Aiden’s throat as he felt the warm press of Shane’s cock, twitching with interest.
A quiet, thoughtful noise passed through Shane’s lips into Aiden’s mouth. Shane nudged Aiden’s body with his own, backing him up against the kitchen island, pulling away just enough to fumble Aiden’s belt open, unzip the fly of his jeans, and shove his hand inside.
“Fuck,” Shane groaned, surprised but not displeased, as his big, warm palm laid against Aiden’s cunt.
This, Aiden didn’t bother to point out, was a relatively recent development—a “gift” from Lilith, Queen of Hell, right before she’d fucked her demonspawn into him. After that pregnancy ran its course, Aiden had contemplated transmuting his cunt back into a cock; he had to admit, however, that back-to-back orgasms were much more fun than anything he’d experienced before his encounter with Lilith.
Shane braced his free hand against the island, his broad body caging Aiden in as he curled his fingers, parting Aiden’s slit with blunt fingertips and tracing a hot line up through slick folds. Aiden made a sharp, whining sound as that warm pressure circled his entrance; the mouth of his cunt twitched and clenched, eager to draw Shane’s fingers inside, but they kept moving, trailing even higher. Shane’s first and middle finger settled to either side of his clit, squeezing it gently between them, and rolled in a slow, experimental motion. Aiden gasped and bucked his hips up into Shane’s touch, head tipping back; Shane’ mouth fell to Aiden’s exposed throat, hot lips and sharp stubble against soft, vulnerable skin.
Aiden clutched at the back of Shane’s head with one hand, holding that delicious mouth to his frantically bobbing throat, while the other pawed frantically at the front of Shane’s sweatpants and the hot, generous bulge of his hardening cock.
With a sharp groan, Shane yanked his hand free of Aiden’s jeans and grabbed at his thighs, the muscle in his arms and shoulders flexing as he hauled Aiden’s body up onto the counter. He shoved at Aiden’s chest, pressing him flat against the countertop; tugging at the waistband of his jeans, he dragged them down his thighs just enough to fully expose his tight little cunt.
Aiden shivered as the cool air of the kitchen hit his heated skin, every muscle in his body trembling with anticipation. Shane was staring down between Aiden’s legs, mouth hanging open, the pink of his tongue resting against his lower lip. He laid a warm palm over Aiden’s mound and dragged his thumb up through Aiden’s slit, hot and firm against sensitive flesh, the folds parting with a quiet wet noise. Then he stroked it firmly over Aiden’s clit.
A jolt of pleasure rolled through Aiden’s body, making his thighs twitch and his cunt clench down. Aiden moaned encouragement and spread his legs as widely as they could go with his knees still trapped in his jeans, his open belt buckle jingling with the movement.
“Yeah,” Shane said, panting, “yeah,” and bent to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to Aiden’s cunt, licking into it like he’d licked into his mouth. The firm, hot muscle of his tongue stroked through his folds, over his entrance, then up across his clit, sending waves of sensation through Aiden’s cunt into the pit of his belly.
Aiden arched against the island, the back of his head colliding with the hard countertop, mouth open on a gasping moan. Shane closed his lips over Aiden’s clit and sucked at it—gently at first, then harder as Aiden’s moans rose in pitch. His warm, wet tongue eagerly sought out out every sensitive spot Aiden had: stroking up and down between Aiden’s clit and his entrance, circling the mouth of his cunt, dipping inside with pointed, shallow licks. And all the while Shane grunted low and hungry in his throat, a counterpoint to the wet, sucking noises of his lips on Aiden’s folds. Aiden’s eyes squeezed shut; his hands flew to the back of Shane’s head, scratching through his hair, grabbing handfuls of it as Shane’s ministrations pushed him higher and higher until—
“Shit,” said an unfamiliar voice, from across the room. “You found pussy.”
Aiden’s eyes snapped open.
From his upside-down vantage point, Aiden registered two more men about Shane’s age—fellow Deltas—standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Both had swimmer’s bodies, leanly muscled with broad shoulders and narrow, trim waists. One wore a baseball cap over his shaggy hair—backwards, naturally—while the other had his buzzed down to a crew cut.
Shane’s frustrated groan thrummed through Aiden’s cunt, and Aiden made a desperate, thoroughly embarrassing noise as Shane lifted his head from between his thighs. He arched his hips up to follow Shane’s retreat, frantic for that mouth to get back to what it was doing.
“You know the rules,” said the one with the baseball cap. “Take him downstairs.”
