My College Bully Wants To Fuck Me

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Part 1: My College Bully Invited Me to His Hotel Room

I should’ve skipped the reunion. Would’ve been easier. Would’ve saved me the headache, the old wounds, the ugly memories that kept crawling back whenever I thought about him.

Wes Carter. My college bully.

He didn’t just tease me like it was some harmless joke — he made it a public sport. Humiliating me wasn’t a side quest for him; it was the main event.

Day after day, week after week, until the idea of showing up to campus felt like stepping onto a firing line.

I still remember that day in lecture. How he laughed — loud enough for the whole room to hear — and said,

"Noah’s just mad ‘cause he wants to suck me off."

And the thing was — it stuck. The laughter did too. It wrapped itself around me like a second skin.Echoed down every hallway, filled every locker room, every shitty dining hall with whispers and smirks that never seemed to die.

And yeah, if I’m being honest — he was fucking hot. Maybe that was the cruelest part. I was into him, I still am. Wes had that stupid golden-boy thing going. Tan skin, perfect careless hair, a jawline that looked like it belonged in a goddamn magazine. His arms were thick. His smile was easy. And no matter how much I hated him — some fucked-up part of me hated how much I still noticed.

I hadn’t seen him since graduation. Not until tonight. The hotel bar was packed. Noise and fake smiles. Classmates pretending the years hadn’t hit them as hard as they had. I stayed close to the edge, drink untouched, scanning the crowd for a way out.

And then — there he was.

Wes.

Sitting at the bar like he owned it. Like the years hadn’t touched him at all. He was fitter now, broader across the chest and shoulders. His olive-green t-shirt stretched tight against him like it barely survived the trip over his body.

His face had gotten sharper, rougher somehow — but the tan skin, the careless hair, the gravity he carried when he smiled — that was all still there.

And when he saw me — he smiled.

Like none of it had ever happened. Like we were just two old mates bumping into each other after all these years. My stomach twisted. I should’ve turned around. Should’ve slipped out while I still could. Instead, I walked straight toward him.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” he said, raising his drink in some half-assed salute.

“Didn’t think you’d talk to me,” I said, leveling my voice so it wouldn’t shake.

He grinned. “Why not?”

I tilted my head. “You made it your hobby to humiliate me in college. Ring any bells?”

His smile faltered — just for a second.

“C’mon, man. That was just stupid college shit. It wasn’t that deep.”

“Wasn’t deep?” I said, my laugh low and cold.

“You called me out in lecture. You made me a joke.”

He dropped his gaze. Thumb running along the rim of his glass like he was trying to find an excuse not to look at me.

“Okay. Yeah. That one was bad.”

“You weren’t just another guy laughing,” I said.

“You were the ringleader. Everyone followed your lead.”

He finally looked at me then.And something cracked open between us — something old and bitter and too big to hide anymore.

“I didn’t think it stuck with you,” he said, voice quieter now.

“You don’t get to say that.”

The air between us tightened — like a rubber band stretched too far.

For the first time, maybe ever, Wes Carter looked sorry.

Really, truly sorry.

He looked at me — something behind his eyes shifting.

“I’m sorry, Noah. I was a dick. A dumbass kid trying to look cool. Doesn’t make it okay. But I mean it.”

I didn’t say anything.Just watched him.

He shifted a little. “I didn’t even realize you were... you know..”

“I wasn’t out, back then” I cut in.

His head snapped up.

“So, you seriously are gay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Posted about it a few months ago. Got a lot of love. People messaged and showed their support.”

I let it sit there for a second.

Then added, “You didn’t, though.”

He looked at me like I’d slapped him.

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“That never stopped you before.”

There was a pause.

Then he exhaled, soft and shaky.

“I deserved that.”

I crossed my arms. “So what now? You offer me a drink and hope I forget?”

“No,” he said. “But a few of us are hanging in my room later. Just chill stuff. Music. Beers. Room 1406. You should come by.”

I blinked. Raised a brow. “You think a party will make up for what you did?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“But maybe I can start with not being an asshole anymore. Just… come by. Let me apologize without a hundred people around.”

I didn’t answer. He just nodded once — almost like he knew it could go either way — and turned. And just like that, Wes Carter walked away.

_________

An hour later, I was standing outside Room 1406.

I should’ve left. Should’ve gone back to my overpriced Airbnb and pretended none of this happened. I didn’t even get the chance to wonder if it was a mistake.

Because the door opened. And there he was.

Wes.

No music. No voices. No crowd.

Just Wes.

Hair damp. Towel around his neck. No shirt. Chest still glistening from the shower.

That same stupid smirk — only this time, it was quieter. Lower.

Something behind it I couldn’t place.

Not cocky. Not cruel. Just...dark. Like he’d been waiting for me. He simply looked at me — lips curling into a different kind of smile. Not the arrogant grin from our college days.

Something heavier. Something worse.

“Do you wanna come in?” he asked.

And I didn’t answer.

I just stepped inside.

___________

Read Part 2: He opened the door in just a towel and smirked like he knew I’d stare.

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