Scum (Wrong Side of the Tracks 1)

“The prince would be lost to the world once the rogue drags him to his lair,” Shane teased, and when his thigh pushed between Ros’s legs, a jolt of pleasure spiralled through him like lightning through a bottle.

“Unless he invited the rogue to his castle.” Ros winked and gave Shane a quick kiss, unable to look away from the piercing eyes. “There’s an event at one of the sororities, and most of the frat guys are away to help out with preparations. Wanna come over?”

“Oh, do I ever. Lead me to your bedchamber, your highness,” Shane rumbled, and squeezed Ros’s dick through his pants with a wide grin when it got him the reaction he wanted. Ros could barely take more of this teasing!

Ros grabbed his hand, even though he’d have to let it go once they went out into the corridor. The next ten minutes were a blur of sexual tension that couldn’t be released. He sat on the back of Shane’s bike, pretending he wasn’t half-hard already, but at least he wasn’t the one who had to take them home.

The frat house was on the other end of the massive campus, and the few minutes of riding so close together were like extended torture. Ros’s skin was damp under his clothes, and his dick uncomfortably hard by the time they reached the parking at the front of the frat, but dusk would aid Ros in hiding his raging hard on until they reached his door.

Shane smelled like the woods after rainfall: earthy and welcoming yet mysterious, and Ros couldn’t wait to step into his arms again.

The massive house was silent when they walked in, and Ros laughed when his lover slapped his butt, urging him upstairs. In the past weeks, it had become clear how much he loved a rough tumble in the sheets, and he couldn’t wait for Shane to drag him over the mattress.

Getting impatient while Ros fumbled with the key to his room, Shane pressed himself against his back and dragged his hot tongue over the back of his ear before gently gliding it down his neck.

It was near impossible to focus in such circumstances.

“I can’t find the keyhole,” Ros complained, biting his lip, because he knew damn well he was asking for an innuendo. And Shane delivered with as much ease as he always did.

“My key on the other hand knows exactly where its hole is,” he rasped, rocking his groin against Ros’s ass. His body molded itself to Ros’s, sandwiching him against the door in a way so delicious Ros forgot what he’d been complaining about in the first place.

He groaned in pleasure, but the sound died on his lips when someone else spoke.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Brad exclaimed not far away, making Ros turn so fast he pushed Shane at the banister behind them.

“It’s not what you think! We were just goofing around—”

But Brad was pale as a sheet as he looked between them and shook his head. “I don’t care. This is the least of our problems. Pete is dead.”

Ros stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Pete went on a trip. And it was a fucking bad one!” Brad spread his shaky hands, as if he were trying to grasp at something that no longer existed.

Pete. The gay Batman who liked what Shane and Ros brought into the frat a bit too much.

Chapter 7 – Shane

The fucking idiot hadn’t yet gone cool, but his heart had been still for long enough that looking for any sign of life seemed pointless. And the other idiot, Brett—or was it Brad—hadn’t bothered to close his ex-friend’s eyes, too afraid to not only touch the dead body but even approach it.

Judging by the way he pressed his back to the door and dug his heels into the floor, he wouldn’t have entered Pete’s bedroom if he wasn’t personally involved.

“Fuck… fuck… I told him he was taking them too often,” Brad squeaked as Shane kneeled next to the dead frat boy and pulled his eyelids down over cloudy eyes.

Shane had seen his share of overdose cases, and it was never pretty. This one at least hadn’t managed to shit himself in his final moments, but the faint odor of urine hung in the air like fog.

Ros was a basket case in the corner, scooting with his hands over his nape and hyperventilating. A sorry sight, because the usual dreamy attitude suited him much better.

“We’re all going to prison,” Ros whimpered, and while Shane should have felt a twinge of satisfaction at seeing Beck’s son in this state, his instincts told him to stroke the boy’s hair and tell him it would be all right.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s gonna be fine,” he muttered, rising to his feet. But before he could have reached his side, Brad stood in the way with eyes so bloodshot he might have taken the same stuff as his cooling friend.