Chapter Text
It was almost nine in the evening on a Wednesday. Cater was taking his usual, very long shower and Trey was seated at his desk in their shared dorm room. It was a little late for Trey’s personal tastes to be enjoying dinner, he usually tried to eat before dark. Still, “enjoying” might be a strong word for what was in his bowl tonight. He looked down with disappointment at the pallid baked chicken, set uninterestingly atop a bed of white rice and seasoned only with salt. Utterly beige, and wholly unappetizing.
He sighed, leaning on his elbow at his desk before taking a bite. Dry. He would love a sauce right now, of any kind really. Even mustard was starting to sound good.
Actually, no, this was the dinner he deserved for the thoughts and feelings he had been having over the past 6 months. He bitterly shoved another mouthful into his jaws and chewed. Somewhere online—or maybe somewhere even before that—he had read that bland food was supposed to help decrease uncontrolled desires. Trey took yet another bite and grimaced. Hopefully it was true, he was suffering enough as it was without enduring this on top of it all.
It wouldn’t even be a problem if he could just be normal. Yet, in this case, it really was too much to ask.
It had all started at freshman orientation—almost exactly half a year ago. Trey had been wrapped elegantly in his black robes, clutching his magical pen. He clung onto it with disproportionate concern, consumed with the idea that he would drop the new and expensive object he had only just been trusted with. The wonders of the ancient magic and the emergence of students via the portals left him in awe. In truth, every new spectacle and speech almost teetered on overwhelming him. He was so used to the quiet atmosphere in his hometown, where magic was primarily used for tradeswork and healing. This felt more ritualistic and showy than anything he had experienced in the past. Yet, in a sparkling whirlwind, it was over. They were dismissed to mingle for a brief moment, allowing time to chat and greet fellow students before heading to their respective dorms to settle in and convene with their Wardens.
Through the din, among dozens of boys shouting and carousing, he saw him. He had been two rows in front with his back turned to Trey, checking his phone more than once during the ceremony in what looked like a slight display of bad-boy behavior. Any thoughts Trey may have had around that evaporated now, when he saw his face for the first time.
It was angular yet delicate, with the most mischievous and bewitching green eyes he had ever seen. They were distinctly illuminated in the violet light of the mirror chamber, reflective and bright. He had a beautiful slope to his nose, leading Trey’s gaze gracefully down to his perfect set of teeth. They were perfect, rather, in their uniqueness. All aligned in the ways that mattered, but sharp and charmingly projected at the canines. Trey felt a creeping sensation—something that tasted like fixation—and he couldn’t feel his legs when he saw the boy’s hood fall to his shoulders in a flutter. It exposed a wavy mop of marigold hair that framed his features, circling them in a way that made his glamour all the more impossible to ignore. Trey swore his vision actively narrowed as he saw the person in front of him gently bite his plush bottom lip in thought.
What would he taste like?
The thought rushed into his mind at disturbing speed.
It wasn’t intrusive, it wasn’t unwanted—he meant it with every cell in his body. Had Trey ever known this feeling? Was this what everyone in high school had been talking about, with their raging hormones and endless chattering about who wanted to sleep with who? The incessant talk of crushes and first sight attraction? These things that had always gone over his head, because who had time to think when there was a family business to run and homework to do?
But who could think of homework, or an order of 30 cookies for the following morning, if this boy was in front of them. Who could think of anything at all?
Trey was walking towards him—he couldn’t stop himself. He had to talk to him right this second, or he was sure he would never sleep again. He just had to know what his voice sounded like, or he would absolutely ruminate on this missed moment forever. It was as if Trey had become possessed; the only thing that mattered to him was the red haired boy with the aventurine eyes. The same eyes that flicked up, meeting his own with intensity… and curiosity.
Trey stopped, reeling suddenly from the knowledge that he too could be seen. That he wasn’t a shadow or a ghost, that he was just as solid and present as the other. He almost jumped as the small man took his own step forward, tilting his head like an interested bird with colorful plumage.
He smirked, licking his upper lip absently as he looked at Trey from head to toe with slow fascination. His eyelids drooped almost imperceptibly as he played with a loose strand of hair.
“Hey there. Are you lost?” The boy breathed—and it was more of an exhale than anything—airy and impossibly light on his pink tongue. Trey hadn’t expected him to sound so soft, and it was doing things to him.
Trey had been split open. For the first time in what felt like several years, he said what he truly felt—voice steady and gentle in his chest. “No…no, I don’t think I am. I’m Trey. Trey Clover.”
That answer seemed to please the boy immensely, because he laughed. The melodic sound was enough to turn Trey’s last functional brain cell into a spoonful of egg pudding. The other’s hand was at his own mouth, demurely biting the nail of his index finger as he gave Trey another once over with his eyes. The more he looked, the happier he seemed. “Hi, Trey. I’m Cater, and I think you’re coming with me.”
In the present, Trey’s head thudded heavily onto the front page of his notebook as he groaned, still gripping his bowl of awful food. Since then, the two of them had been absolutely glued to one another. The initial magnetism hadn’t stopped after they had started talking in earnest—it had just increased if anything.
Cater had immediately found Trey to be so exciting, for reasons wholly mysterious and completely beyond Trey’s comprehension. He had always believed himself to be pretty boring, but whenever he opened his mouth around Cater he felt the opposite. Cater would giggle and slap his arm, or ask further questions about the most mundane things, hanging on every word. It felt… really good.
Cater himself was a whirlwind—extremely creative and mind-blowingly sharp. There wasn’t a day that went by where Trey wasn’t surprised by him. Either by his ability to talk his way out of almost anything, or by the way he knew just the quip to make Trey laugh until his stomach hurt. He was starting to become unsure if it was possible for him to get tired of Cater, he played on loop in his consciousness like a favorite song on repeat. He could talk about anything and Trey was rapt—to the point it threatened to impact their sleep schedules if they got going too late.
It was easy. Easy to do all school related activities together, since they were sorted to the same dorm. It was easy to share meals, and to walk each other to clubs. It all had been effortless; they had even volunteered to trade roommates to spend more time together. Moving their boxes in had Trey stupidly giddy. He lied to hide his shaking hands, blaming it on an extra mug of coffee.
Everything about being around Cater was endlessly wonderful—in all ways except one. Trey’s own thoughts. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Trey knew what a crush was supposed to entail in theory, but he didn’t think it would be like this. The perpetual, nagging cravings to see and feel Cater under or on him—in the most compromising ways possible—was haunting. The frequent times he would lose track of where he was, or what he was doing just because Cater brushed a little too close—sending his faculties whirling from being able to smell him. Even now, it took every ounce of concentration not to picture him in the shower, plush thighs probably slippery and lathered with white suds. He could hear Cater singing, even more so playing the part of a pretty siren that lived just 10 feet away from him.
Cater was a tall drink of the coolest water, or a shot of cinnamon whiskey—depending on the situation. Trey wanted to guzzle both until it all ran over and his face was dripping wet.
Trey was losing his grip, he was certain, and he felt entirely in the wrong for the depth of his lust. He had always been divorced from things like this, aloof and disinterested at the prospect of relationships or sex. Part of him had been quietly waiting for the day he would finally find women interesting or alluring—for any reason beyond friendship—like he was apparently supposed to. He had spent a good amount of time silently wondering if he was broken somehow, because he had yet to feel the things most of his peers had. But now, it had all fallen into place after meeting him.
Trey was like a man unleashed, crushed to dust by the first taste of desire. More than half his waking thoughts were consumed by the boy who had quickly become his best friend.
Trey was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the shower turn off. It was only at the sound of bare feet on hardwood, and the familiarity of Cater’s voice that he turned around.
“Hey, Trey? Do you have any body lotion? I’m totally out,” Cater asked nonchalantly as he stood in the center of the room, wearing absolutely nothing but a very small towel draped around his hips.
His skin was dewy from the heat, freckled and blooming pink from increased circulation. Trey couldn’t rip his gaze away despite the myriad of internal sirens wailing in his ears. Cater’s nipples were bare and deliciously rosy, teasing Trey with how easy they looked to pinch. Pearlescent beads of water rolled down his flesh, catching tantalizingly on the dip of his hips and in the valley of his navel. His waist was smaller than Trey had expected; the narrow curves always hidden by his tailored uniform. It begged to be grabbed. His hands would find a wonderful resting place on either side of his torso, if Trey were to grip him and pull him flush with his aching—too much, too much, too much!!
Trey rocketed to his feet with such violent speed that his desk chair spun out from under him and clattered to the floor. It was mortifyingly loud, but not nearly as disastrous as his total inability to rip his eyes away from his friend’s mostly nude body. Instead he was a statue, crimson red to his hairline and unblinking.
“Oh em gee, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you,” Cater cooed, covering his mouth to undoubtedly camouflage a smile. His surprise and remorse were both completely false, and Trey could smell it on him.
“You didn’t—I just… you’re,” naked. Naked and perfect.
“Oh, this? I didn’t realize it would be a big deal, but I probably should have known. You’re a pretty shy guy, aren’t you?” He asked, edges softening into a teasing fondness. “Still though, you keep staring… Trey.”
He couldn’t answer that if he wanted to. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately after all, Cater kept talking. He ran a hand through his wet tresses and dragged it down his body in a slow sensual line. His lean muscles moved languidly under his skin. Trey was forced to swallow so he wouldn’t audibly wheeze his next trembling breath.
“We are roomies you know. It’s only a matter of time before we see each other undressed. Either by accident, or…,” Cater let that sentence hang as he shoved his thumb dangerously into the knot of what little coverage he had, threatening to drop the towel with a mere flick of the wrist. “We could just get it out of the way?” The offer fell from his lips like a baited hook, waiting to pull Trey up by wherever it buried itself—trapped, and hungry for all of it. Cater’s eyes were unreadable in their mirth, plausible deniability still within his reach. Oh, the power he held in those exquisite hands.
Say no. Tell him no. What is wrong with you?! You’re taking too long, he’s gonna know!
“I’m…” Everything was static and want. He wanted, he needed, he craved.
Suddenly Cater began walking towards him, confident and relaxed in his gait. Trey backed up like a cornered animal. He was terrified of himself—of what he would do if Cater touched him. Of what his body was doing in this moment, the arousal that he was wrestling into submission boiling under his flesh. Cater giggled as Trey rose up to his tip-toes when their bodies threatened to brush, curving his torso into itself while the other gazed up at him. And then…
Cater simply reached past Trey and grabbed a bottle of lotion from the other man’s desk with a wink.
“Just kidding with you~,” he sang before wiggling the container in Trey's face. “I’ll be taking this though. The shower is open—if you need to cool off, Trey-Trey.”
God. Trey wasn’t sure how this could get worse. He must be the easiest guy in the world to tease, especially when he reacted so pathetically to something common enough in a locker room.
He cursed himself for being so obvious.
Cater paused one last time, looking over his shoulder before rounding the corner back into the bathroom. He waved his hand at Trey’s abandoned meal, raising an amused eyebrow. “By the way… your dinner looks, like, super sad. If you have a stomach ache, apple sauce is better for that.”
“Right. Yeah. I’ll do that next time.”
It was over for him.