Sasha was 16. He was a prisoner of his own impulses sometimes, but he'd accepted the invitation and he would go. No matter what.

He couldn't imagine why he'd given in. He was a strong-willed boy, improbably taking after his Irish father more than his blood kin, and he had never had any difficulty speaking his mind. But the pursuit had taken him by surprise.

He told himself that it was mere curiosity driving him towards the frat party at the University. But he wondered.

"Why'd you ask me to come?" Sasha asked.

Patrick shrugged, his unruly brown hair falling across his face. "I dunno. Thought you might…like it."

Patrick Verona was a couple of years older than Sasha. A college boy pledging to a fraternity in his first year. He was surly and sullen and unspeakably striking. Not at all the type of person Sasha usually hung around.

But there was something oddly compelling about the older boy, something that drew Sasha in. Helplessly and against his will.

He was no stranger to same-sex relationships. His folks were hopeless romantics, but that didn't make them any less gay. His best friend, Jazz, was in love with Adam Samuelle. Rumor had it that they might even get married someday. That was great. For them. But he had no such leanings, never had, and he clung ridiculously long and stridently to the belief that one day, he would belong to Skye.

Only after a couple of beers and staring into Patrick Verona's remarkable dark brown eyes, he was beginning to question his real purpose in coming here.

Patrick's monosyllabic conversation was starting to frustrate Sasha. He was getting drunk. He could feel it. And now, he wanted to pull the words out of Patrick's mouth.

"Jesus, spit it out."

"Spit what out?"

"Whatever it is you're trying not to say, man. You're driving me crazy."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Sasha slurred.

Patrick bit his lip and contemplated the beautiful young man who stood somewhat unsteadily before him. "If I tell you…you might not like it."

"If you don't…I'm going to fucking kill you. Arghhh! Say something!"

Sasha put down his bottle of beer and shifted his weight uneasily. There was something uncomfortable about looking into those dark eyes now. He and Patrick shared the same coloring, but that was all. Patrick was taller, his frame more slender yet more muscular. Hard in places where Sasha was soft. Huh? Did I just think that?

"I like you," Patrick blurted out.

"I like you, too. What's the big fucking deal about that, man? Sheesh."

"No, I mean…I like you." Patrick emphasized the next to last word, and Sasha's eyes grew wide. Despite his drunken state, he wasn't that far gone that he didn't catch the implications of what Patrick had just said.

"You're not!"

"I am."

"No way."

"Way." Patrick leaned closer and trailed his fingers along the side of Sasha's face. "Shit," Sasha exclaimed, coloring furiously. "You don't mean what I think you mean."

Patrick nuzzled Sasha's cheek, the stubble of Sasha's five o'clock shadow tickling him slightly. "Yeah, I do," the young Aussie said softly.

"Then this whole thing was just an excuse to get into my pants, huh?" Sasha demanded, his expression full of hurt. He had always found Patrick an intriguing contradiction. A bad boy, in every sense of the word, Patrick's reputation precluded forming friendships of the most ordinary kind, and yet…that's what they'd become. Friends. As hard as the boy seemed on the o utside, he had an inner sweetness that lay, Sasha thought, largely untapped.

Till now.

"No," Patrick said, his voice imbuing the word with an almost palpable ache. "I do want to touch you…but only if you…want to touch me back."

It had taken a lot to confess that. But Sasha wasn't sure he was ready to hear something like that. Mindless sex. That was one thing. He didn't think he wanted that, but at least, it was something he could deal with. But something more than sex? A fucking relationship? Oh, no, Sasha knew he wasn't ready to handle that.

"I can't."

Patrick nodded sadly. "I understand."

Sasha shook his head. "I don't think you do." Suddenly he was blindingly, terrifyingly sober. He reached for Patrick's face with both hands and kissed him, keeping his eyes open the entire time. He wanted to see if there was anything there, anything worth exploring. He tried to tell himself that he merely wanted to confirm what he already knew. That he was straight.

But he wasn't prepared for the wave of desire that rushed directly to his groin. His fingers twining restlessly in Patrick's hair, Sasha kissed him again, deciding that his initial response was a fluke.

Thud.

It wasn't.

Patrick moaned when Sasha's tongue crept between his lips ever so tentatively, and Sasha grew bold. He pushed the older boy against the wall and stepped between his legs. He cupped the hardness there, and Patrick squirmed agitatedly under his inadvertent caress. "Please…"

"What do you want?"

Patrick's inarticulate noise awakened an answering response in Sasha. He had never expected to the aggressor in this, but he liked reducing Patrick to sheer bonelessness. Tucked away in the corner the way they were, they were nearly invisible in the relative darkness of the room. People had already started to move away into the various rooms throughout the fraternity house. There was no one nearby. No one to see.

Sasha sank to his knees and palmed the zipper of Patrick's jeans. When the metal teeth reluctantly gave up their prize, Patrick's cock sprang free, wetness glistening at its velvety tip. Sasha looked up at Patrick, saw the unspoken entreaty, and returned to his task with a dogged determination.

He dragged his tongue across the head of Patrick's dick, and Patrick jerked against the wall, his legs unconsciously spreading themselves wider. Sasha worked a finger inside Patrick's jeans, heading straight for the opening that hid itself in the cleft of his ass. At the exact moment that his finger penetrated Patrick's tight hole for the first time, Sasha swallowed his cock, feeling the answering throb in his own groin.

Whether the sensation was unexpected or simply too intense to be borne, Patrick stiffened and came, flooding Sasha's mouth with salty fluid. Reduced to a trembling mass of overloaded nerve cells, Patrick tugged on Sasha's long hair. Sasha stood up and pressed himself hard against Patrick, uncaring that he was smearing come all over the front of his jeans. Without releasing Sasha's own rampant erection, Patrick kissed him, hard and deep. Sasha thrust into the older boy's cupped hand and came in his pants, a long, low sigh whispering into Patrick's mouth.

"What does this mean?" Sasha asked, the moment he could speak again.

"I dunno," Patrick said honestly.

"Can we find out together?"

"God, I hope so," Patrick replied, giving Sasha a fervent kiss.

"We're a mess."

"Yeah."

"Want to try out the shower upstairs?" Sasha asked, licking a wet path along the line of Patrick's jaw.

"What if someone catches us?"

"What if they do?"

For the first time in a long time, Sasha felt curiously at peace with himself. This wasn't a bad beginning.

End