The Black Rose Season

13

I'm in the study room on the frat house ground floor. I've got my laptop with me, and it's sitting on the round table I have taken up all to myself. There are a few other Sigmas about, but luckily, we are all here to do some work. But, somehow, I have a sneaking suspicion the others aren't here to write Brendon Urie's essay for him, especially not because they agreed to do it in an exchange for a blowjob.

Yeah. That bears repeating: he gave me a blowjob, and I agreed to write his paper for him.

Now, of course, I would have never agreed to it under normal circumstances, but this is the House of Hell, so obviously normal rules don't apply, right? And Brendon threw it at me halfway through the act; was I to say no when all I could think of was his hot mouth on me? I could always just say that I won't do it, but god knows what kind of a shouting match that would end up in. Besides, it's been a day since Brendon turned me into a whimpering mess on my bed, and I haven't talked to him. I've seen him, very briefly in the dining room this morning at breakfast, but we didn't talk. I blushed furiously and stared at the walls while he sat on the other side and stuffed cereal in his mouth.

Brendon has now been renamed. He is now known as The Guy Who Had a Finger in Me. God, I could have at least lasted a bit longer. He probably thinks I'm a lousy lay on top of everything else.

Brendon came home around one o'clock last night, so his date didn't turn out to be a "let's go back to your place" date. I mean, that would have been pretty slutty, right? To give me a blowjob and then fool around with his date? Maybe I stayed up waiting for him to come back and pretending to be asleep when he eventually did. Maybe I was jealous as fuck. Maybe.

I sigh and rub my eyes slightly. It's getting late, and I am still typing out his fucking paper, which is due tomorrow at noon. Three thousand words comparing and contrasting the use of supernatural elements in Hamlet and Macbeth. It's not hard, not really, but god, I'd rather be doing anything other than this right now.

"Watcha doing, bro?"

I look away from the screen and see that William has sat across from me.

"Paper," I mutter unenthusiastically, not surprised to see him. He spends a lot of time in the study room.

William's eyes spark up. "Oh, is it the one on The Waste Land? I've only gotten past, 'April is the cruellest month', and dude, I am stuck."

"No, um, this is Shakespeare."

William frowns. "We did Shakespeare last year."

I only hum and keep typing, but William keeps giving me a look. I finish the sentence, check the word count and save it before looking over my laptop screen at him. "If I told you something, would you promise I don't have to hear about it in the domestic news in tomorrow's house meeting?"

"Of course," William assures me.