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It was a quarter past four as Albert waited in an elevator. The sounds of an inattentively tapping foot could be heard along with the slow grind of obscured machinery. He was alone, spare for his colourful reflection standing out in the floor-to-ceiling mirror at the back of the slow moving box. His inhumanly blackened right hand held onto the torn off corner of what was once a bright pink paper. The smudged words ‘room B02’ were hastily scrawled on with still wet, red ink. The clawed fingers of his left hand boredly picked at each other. Pale arms, that trickled like vines into black at the forearm, crossed loosely in a lazy manner.
The grating machinery whirred for a second more before slowing to a stop with an accompanied ding. Half functioning doors squeaked themselves open as Albert pushed his back off the dingy wall and out into the open. He stood just outside the elevator and registered its fading metal shifting. The hallway he found himself in could certainly be described as eerie due to its lack of any other presence.
Peering down at the note, then back up at a mildly rusted sign hung directly before him, he took a left. The white, fluorescent lights bounced off the distastefully beige walls as Albert strode down. Looking at the right hand side's doors read: ‘B32… B30… B28…’
His destination must be at the very end of the hallway. B02 used to be the second old study hall from when RMU consisted of just the main building’s three stories and the basement Albert occupied. After the university gained popularity in 2057, the addition of two newly constructed buildings meant a lot more free space. That’s why the room was converted for library storage. The books on niche or unpopular subjects were crammed in there, along with stuffy, outdated technology like ‘projectors’ that the librarians still seemed to hoard. For emergency use supposedly.
Only the biggest nerds knew about this study hall, which is why Albert - first in his year - was surprised to only find out about it that day. It was during a riveting conversation about cephalopods with an assistant librarian that he was quickly shoved off with the very note he held. He supposed he should feel a little irked at the assistant’s blatant shooing, but Albert was nothing if not positive.
He kept his pace along the bleak hallway, the only sounds his echoing footsteps. Or so he thought. By room B16, Albert paused to listen. He swore he could hear something faint. Maybe not. Continuing on, he dismissed the thought. But only after passing one more room did he hear it again, now he was sure of it. A distant creak? He pressed on, sweeping B12. A thud? His feet pushed him forward, now properly curious. B10, another thud. B08 - B06 - B04, thud - thud - groan. Groan?
Now mindful of his steps, Albert snuck up to his goal - the second old study hall - and leant his ear to the door. He could definitely hear it now. The unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, the creaks and thuds of whatever poor furniture was being subjected to this, the laboured breathing and poorly muffled moans reverberated behind the door, and throughout the hallway as it seemed. Albert didn’t have time for this, he just wanted to get his encyclopedia on cephalopods and leave. Rolling his exasperated, fuschia eyes, he turned the old, gold painted knob and swung the door open.
Now Albert’s seen a lot of things, things any ordinary human couldn’t begin to fathom. He’s seen peoples’ worst nightmares, their wildest dreams, their greatest embarrassments, even the hidden insecurities that lurk beyond their subconsciouses. From car sized spiders to becoming the president, nothing surprised him. Or at least nothing used to surprise him, not until that very moment.
The scene that presented itself before Albert was, putting it mildly, a first. There placed Vincent Edgeworth - his gloomy academic rival and second in their year - bent over a desk half naked, with his roommate - the spry and flirty economics major Victor Blake - right behind him in quite a similar fashion. All in the span of a millisecond did the image burn to Albert’s memory.
Vincent was a couple metres away, facing the door, his hands in a white-knuckled grip around the opposite end of one of the assorted desks, leading to his bare chest laying flat over the cool surface of said desk, leading to his very naked ass propped up behind him. And buried deep inside sat Victor, standing with his lower garments bunched around his ankles, upper garments somewhere else in the room, and hands locked in a vice grip around Vincent’s hips. Both of the two’s grey eyes snapped up to meet Albert’s pink.
“Albert!”
Vincent yelled in utter shock, red shone harshly off every inch of his face down to his neck. His very bitten and bruised neck Albert noted. The way Vincent called his name, quite literally ass up, short circuited Albert’s brain. His pupils flitted in every direction imaginable, from the maroon, leather jacket and black turtleneck on the left side of the room, to the black suit pants, jacket, and bowtie on the right side of the room, to the white button-up pushed up Vincent’s back, to where the two in front of him were connected, to the red, sweaty faces of either man, to the-
Albert’s mind snapped back upon hearing the faint sound of the bright pink library note rustling with its contact to the ground. He must have dropped it. His head jolted down to the note, then back up to the two men.
“Cephalopods,” Albert put rather eloquently, “I was told there is an encyclopedia of cephalopods down here.”
The three of them didn’t dare move a muscle and the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, or a torn off pink note as luck would have it. No sound escaped any of them, that is, until Victor jerked his hips forward with a wet slap. A filthily loud moan tore from Vincent’s throat and his mouth slackened, all while making eye contact with Albert. Vincent brought his hand backwards and smacked the side of Victor’s arm, glaring at him over his shoulder. He growled out between pants:
“That’s enough out of you!”
Vincent whipped his head back around and faced Albert with the most livid expression he’s mustered thus far. If looks could kill.
“And you-”
Victor resumed the roll of his hips, gyrating deep and slow. Vincent cut himself off with a strangled wail as his face switched from a murderous scowl to fluttering eyelids and bared teeth. The better part of Albert told him to leave. Just turn around and go. But another part of him - a much lower, less intelligent part - couldn’t help but stare stupidly.
Continuing his pointed and languid thrusts, Victor eyed Albert’s hardening crotch with a smirk and nodded his head upwards.
“Well, come on.”
Albert moved before he could think, passing the threshold of the room, along with whatever line was just crossed from not simply leaving in the first place. He stood in front of the table dumbfounded. Victor switched to grinding his hips in a circle while he bent down to hoist Vincent up with an arm under his chest. In the new position, Vincent was half standing, pressed back-to-chest with the redhead supporting him. The new angle weighed Victor’s member heavily against his prostate. The law student inhaled a sharp, shaky breath and scrunched his eyes closed. His hands were poised in the air and were, along with his dribbling, red cock, flexing and twitching.
“Should I leave?”
Albert asked tentatively, suddenly aware of how intimate the situation he interrupted proved. Vincent cracked an eye open and managed among gasps:
“Get over here right now or I’ll-”
He was halted by Victor's traitorous hand firmly fisting his aching cock. Victor set a cruel pace with that dastardly hand and breathed into Vincent’s ear:
“Or you’ll what, dear?”
Albert grew harder in his slacks at the pitiful whines that erupted from the raven haired man. Vincent answered:
“Come, I’m going to come! Albert I’m-”
He broke into a choked off cry, semen splattering up his stomach and across Victor’s hand. Not once did those glazed eyes look away from Albert’s. Said dream-eater’s cock gave a weak jump at the sight, clearly visible through his pants. Victor chuckled at the realisation, hips and hand stilling. He lowered Vincent down on the table, laying him in his own cum. The number two student settled bonelessly on the desk, body giving the occasional twitch and shudder.
A grand total of four seconds went by before Victor readjusted his hands to grip the fat of Vincent’s asscheeks and slam back into him at a furious pace. Vincent was reduced to one drawn out groan, hitching from each smack of Victor’s hips and whole body shifting forward with every rut.
Albert looked mildly concerned before voicing:
“Don’t you think you should stop?”
Vincent frantically shook his head against the table, still sobbing out. His neat, manicured nails dug into the table. Victor huffed a laboured laugh.
“He’s extremely sensitive and likes the overstimulation.”
Vincent sought his hands from their clenched place to Albert’s waistband. Albert himself could feel Victor’s wild pace through the rhythm of Vincent’s bouncing hands. Victor continued:
“Hell, he can normally go three or four rounds before getting tuckered out.”
“Christ,” Albert responded smartly before speeding his coal toned hands to unbuckle his belt.
Vincent decided on using his shaky hands to yank down the slacks and boxers in one go. Albert’s cock sprung free and landed on Vincent’s cheek. His erection was long and slender, with the same charcoal shade as his hands crowning the tip and fading to his regular whitish-blue tone in a lightning like, crackling pattern. Victor zeroed in on the new appendage with a smirk.
“You’re a mutant everywhere.”
Albert shifted his hands to card through Vincent’s hair, or maybe it was to muss up the usually perfect locks. Who could say? He returned Victor’s gaze and processed what the other man said.
“Yes, I certainly am that. A mutant.”
Vincent quickly changed the subject with breathy chantings of ‘Victor, Victor’ as he drew near. Victor, seemingly put together even in the face of such an erotic display, snickered:
“So needy, Vincent.”
Even Albert chortled at this before puppeting Vincent’s mouth to his awaiting cock. The future lawyer took the cue and wrapped greedy lips around the head, eagerly swirling his tongue like a man starved. His hands unclasped the lowered garments and took to the base of Albert’s length. Said man rumbled from within his chest at the long overdue touch, along with the vibrations Vincent’s heedless sounds provided. He took the liberty of sliding a few inches deeper into the wet heat, Vincent’s noises becoming more and more muffled. Cock halfway in, he rocked his hips leisurely. The stuffed man started rolling his hips back sloppier with Victor’s movements and his eyes once more trained to Albert’s. The dream-eater grinned devilishly down at Vincent, and sneered:
“Are you going to come? What number is this?”
Vincent’s mouth relaxed open to allow more entry, which Albert took gratuitous advantage of. He lifted a hand from the paranormal cock to raise two trembling fingers. Albert tightened his hold on Vincent’s hair and brought his head forward in time with his own bucking. He barked out in mirth:
“You look like a camboy holding a peace sign up!”
Victor laughed along but soon disrupted himself with a loud ‘Fuck!’ as Vincent came. His walls violently squeezed and fluttered around the redhead’s cock, ringing Victor out for every last drop of his soon followed orgasm. Victor’s hips stuttered to the hilt in the plush ass. His head swung up, neck bared to the world, eyes closed, and jaw swung open on a low moan. Albert was treated with the view of Vincent’s rolled back eyes as his cock now stuffed all the way down the man’s throat.
Victor tiredly pulled out, a string of semen following his softening member. Vincent huffed, the air brushing black pubes, and dropped his hand back down on the desk. Albert pumped a little faster into the hot mouth and teased:
“What? You miss being filled up?”
Vincent pulled off with a messy pop, spit connecting him with the black cockhead in front of him. He heaved ragged inhales and blinked bleary, wet lashes at Albert. What a sight to see paired with his sweaty, flushed complexion and dazed stare.
“Albert,”
Vincent drawled out as he waggled his hips side to side in heavy, lustful swings. Well fuck, Albert wasn’t going to argue against that. He rounded the desk, using the short distance to fully shuck off his pants, boxers, and shoes. From where Victor sat open legged and freshly dressed, in the chair to the adjacent desk, he leered at Albert’s ass and whistled an exaggerated catcall. On his way past, Albert smacked him upside the head. He only got a snort in reply.
Now behind Vincent, he could see the winking, gaping hole leaking come down to his thighs. He brought forth keen hands and pulled the milky cheeks apart, sharp nails pressing small indents to the skin. Vincent pushed back in response. Albert lined his yearning cock up with the slick opening and swiftly drove home. A fleshy strike of hips against ass followed with conjoining whimpers, one of oversensitivity and the other of inviting heat. Albert scrunched his eyes closed and gasped. That didn’t stop Vincent from arching his back and tilting his pelvis into a rushed rhythm. Onyx hands clasped over Vincent’s hips to hold him still, hissing sharply:
“My God, you’re a greedy whore.”
He took his left hand to grip at the meat of Vincent’s left thigh, then raised the leg and turned him on his side. Albert’s cock slipped out momentarily while he rolled Vincent the rest of the way on his back. Said man looked up into the ceiling, a far off expression to him only marked by pleasure. He blinked out of his reverie and lifted his head up, looking to Albert with a pleading words couldn’t describe. His long, lithe legs wrapped around the marine biology major’s waist and tugged.
Albert was knocked forward, losing his balance, and slammed down over Vincent, hands bracketing the man by his head. He scoffed right over Vincent’s face. Once an arrogant dick, always an arrogant dick. Really, the nerve. So in revenge, he realigned, plunged back into Vincent’s loose entrance, and set a rough pace from the get-go.
Vincent’s chest rose and his fingers locked around the wrists to either side of him, to not be fucked clean off the table if anything. His grunting and sobs picked back up and he tossed his head back, exposing a red and purple lined neck. Albert took the opportunity to dive into the sweaty column, fangs attacking and shallowly piercing the skin. Vincent reacted harder, legs once more pulling Albert as close to him as possible. In his addled mind he couldn’t see that that would only restrict the other’s movements.
Albert pulled off Vincent’s neck with saliva laden lips. He shifted his centre of gravity back up, only to grip the backs of the knees wrapped around him and push down. Vincent easily folded in half, which made Albert wonder how often he did this. Successfully held down, the law student could do nothing but be used like a fleshlight and tremor on the spot.
While Albert pounded and rode, thoroughly working his thigh muscles, Vincent was left to quiver and quake, pushing against those delicious hips. Both of them profusely vocalised their pleasure for several minutes until the tempo grew erratic and hungry. Albert chased his oncoming release relentlessly, the other merely able to enjoy the ride. Vincent brought a spasming hand down to himself and fisted his overworked cock in time with the thrusts. Albert registered the action and panted out:
“You really can come again can’t you?”
A bit of spit dripped down the side of Vincent’s mouth as he wailed:
“More!”
Getting up from his reclined position, Victor casually stepped over to the side of the desk Vincent’s head lay bobbing. He winked cheesily to Albert.
“The man wants more, I say we give him more.”
Victor leaned over and snaked a hand between the two, replacing Vincent’s hand on his cock with his own. Slimy, slippery sounds were added to the mix from Victor so vigorously jerking and circling his hands over the come and precome covered length.
It didn’t take long after that for Vincent to finish with a shout, fresh tears trailing down the side of his face, and hands locked in a vice grip around Victor’s slowing forearm. Barely any come sputtered out from the man’s spent cock as all his muscles convulsed and his hole clenched and contracted. Albert was milked for all he was worth, mouth hanging agape and eyes dilating, as he painted Vincent’s insides. His vision blurred in the peak of his euphoria, mind so far gone even his abilities would fail to conjure it back.
He fluttered his eyelids closed with a wheezing exhale and pulled out, knees buckling a bit and the aftershocks still running through his body. Vincent’s legs gave and laid flaccidly half off the desk. His chest swelled and deflated from his place, trying to catch his breath. The man lifted his head just enough to serve Albert a quirked eyebrow and shit eating smirk:
“Admit it. That was the best sex of your life.”
Boy, did the post orgasm clarity really kick in at that exact moment. Albert’s brow twitched in irritation and he pinched Vincent’s inner thigh. The resulting yelp only grew him more agitated. He found and pulled his boxers and slacks up and reclasped his belt. He then sat down in the chair Victor previously occupied to put his shoes back on. Getting up, he passed Vincent’s line of sight specifically to toss his most confident and cheery grin and left with:
“Well, you had to be first in something."
Albert wished he could have seen how Vincent’s face fell as he left the room, stepping on the pink note and not daring to turn back. He whirled the door closed and placed his hands in his pockets. Walking with an air of victory, and totally not fresh sex, he paced back down the seedy, brown hallway. Past all the identical doors, past the ugly directions sign, through to the drab elevator. Only as Albert watched the shitty, metallic doors close did he realize, he forgot his encyclopedia.