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Being a Pledge

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Cronus asked you to be his boyfriend about a week after the incident in the movie theater.

He let you stay in his apartment a lot to get away from Mituna, but, in hindsight, you probably would rather hang around in your own apartment when Mituna wasn’t there. He hung out with Kurloz a lot and so you tended to have a quiet apartment at the best of times. At the worst of times it would be all four of you.

You and Mituna were still pledges, which generally meant that you had been extended invitation to the fraternity but did not quite mean that you were a member yet. You would stay a pledge for the majority of the semester and during that time, you were generally regarded as the frat’s bitch.

You, specifically, were Cronus’s bitch, but it turned boyfriend-flavored in a relatively short time.

You met the rest of the fraternity in that time as well, as well as two of the other pledges. It was small, about a dozen people total, being an honors’ frat it was notoriously difficult to get into. You still wondered how Cronus managed to weasel his way in, despite being a Legacy.

That meant that his dad was in it. So he just about got in automatically. It wasn’t that he lacked smarts, either. He excelled greatly on the swim team and he studied music, something you thought to be rather endearing.

As it turned out, you were not unlike the rest of the new pledges. Their names were Rufioh and Jake, both of whom seemed to be okay people. Rufioh was getting a degree in zoology and Jake was in the cultural studies program. Their Bigs, respectively, were Horuss Zahhak and Dirk Strider, who were partners on the campus’s competitive robotics division. They basically built remote-controlled robots and beat up on other robots with it.

Barbaric, you thought.

Then again, everybody had their hobbies. Yours were nothing spectacular, you found yourself getting involved in the campus’s debate team and doing fundraising things for the fraternity.

The hazing didn’t stop, unfortunately. Even though you’d done the thing- the whole having sex with Cronus thing, and as far as you were aware, Mituna had eaten a cookie covered in jizz, and you didn’t even dare ask about what Rufioh and Horuss nor Jake and Dirk had done, you still found yourself victim to the occasional slap on the ass or being forced to chug beer out of something called a bong.

“Why is this frat so fucking gay?” Mituna asked you one day, sitting upside-down on the sofa. You were in the frat house- which was, so to speak, where the majority of the frat lived. Kurloz, Horuss, and Dirk lived here, as well as a few other faceless people who you had only met briefly and who generally tended to stay in their rooms and drink more beer.

“I don’t know.” You replied, tugging the collar of your sweater up a little to avoid letting Mituna catch a glimpse of any hickeys that might be (read: were) visible. “I don’t suppose it’s a requirement?”

“I’m not gay.” Mituna replied, pulling his hat down a little bit over his eyes and scowling at you.

“You let Kurloz Makara perform oral sex on you,” You remind him sternly, getting up and pacing about the living room, taking in the décor. “If that’s not gay, Mituna…”

The room was abruptly invaded by Jake, who flung himself over the back of the couch and nearly on top of Mituna, who rolled away just in time to avoid getting squished by 180-some pounds of extremely good looking British boy.

Jake was tan with a shock of wild chestnut hair and an eager outlook on life. You envy him for more reasons than one.

“And hallo, chums! Did I just hear-”

“What? You didn’t KNOW?” Mituna drawls at him, “Yeah, like, Kurloz totally sucked my dick. It was bangin’.”

“…Kurloz Makara? Big, tall, smells like marijuana?” He pronounced it ‘mari-jew-wanna’. “Got a lot of piercings? That Kurloz?”

“Yeah, dude. That Kurloz. We don’t know any other Kurlozeseses.”

You sigh and check your phone. Cronus was supposed to be here by now. There was going to be a party at the frat house tonight and you weren’t sure that you wanted to go. Cronus would insist of course. He would insist because he was going to try and get you drunk and get into your pants.

You knew this because he told you. Straight up.

“Kanny, this weekend, just so you’re aware: I’m totally going to get into your pants when you’re shitfaced drunk, okay?”

And you’d said, “Good luck, it won’t happen.”

You’re a moron. You, Kankri Vantas, who graduated Valedictorian out of 782 students, who attended BSU (Beforus State University) under the weight of a full-ride scholarship to secure your Bachelor’s degree, are a fucking idiot.

As much as you tried to tell yourself during high school, you were completely asexual. You were a nonsexual being, somebody who had made a promise of celibacy to himself in some attempt to make himself seem just that much better than everyone else.

And then you were at college.

And then you rushed a fraternity.

And then you met Cronus Ampora.

And then you had raunchy sex with him in his apartment.

And you marched blindly through each day with no idea what you were doing. You had a boyfriend, you drank beer, you were sexually active, and you liked it.

They say college is when you discover yourself.

You’re not sure if what you’re doing is discovering yourself or making a fool of yourself. Either way you are learning a lot.

You play hard to get because Cronus likes it when you do. He likes to chase, you like to run.


You still won’t look at his dick.

The party happened. And wow. Big surprise. Cronus got into your pants.

“How ‘bout you and me, Little?” He purred into your ear, draping an arm over your shoulders as he leaned in. His breath smelled like cigarettes and PBR and whiskey that he drank straight because it made him seem cooler.

“How ‘bout no?” You purr right back at him, desperately trying to keep your cool.

Everybody else was trying to get you drunker and more shitty because you were a pledge. It happened to every pledge at the party. Including the sorority pledges that were there, too. The party was a mixed drink of people from your honors frat, your sister sorority, and plenty of runoff from other fraternities who lived in the neighborhood and knew this house was having a party.

You couldn’t find Mituna or Rufioh. You had to assume that they were either passed out drunk somewhere or getting freaky.

“You drunk yet?”

“I’m going to allow you to make that estimation, my good sir.” You were trying so desperately hard to sound sober that you somehow managed to make yourself seem drunk as fuck. It was strange how that wound up. “It is not your privilege to know that, so I must ask you, Cronus Ampora, to check yours, now if you will kindly excuse me-”

“Doll, you are gone.”


He kisses your lips and you breathe into them, forgetting that you were supposed to be sober. Oops.

“Cronus-” You push away a fraction to stare unsteadily up at his eyes. “-Cronus Ampora. Are you- have you been- imbibing in marijuana?”

“No!” He shakes his head frantically. “No, man, Kurloz started a circle and I was like, sittin’ in it but I don’t smoke pot, doll, I can’t, they drug test the swim team and stuff so like I can’t smoke it or nothin’. C’mon, gimme a little credit here, babes.”

“…fine, whatever, now-”



“Will you suck my dick? Please?”

You snort PBR into your sinuses and Cronus pounds on your back to help you quit coughing. The resulting conversation took place over the course of the next 3 minutes while Cronus dragged you casually throughout the house, in the lame conspiratory way that people try to ‘sneak’ when they really want somebody to catch them so that everybody else knows that they’re getting some.

You are probably not going to suck his dick.

Because that’s disgusting.

You conveniently forget that he definitely rimmed you before. In hindsight that’s gross as balls but there’s no fucking way you’re going to deny that it felt awesome.

“But Cronus I don’t want-”

But, of course. The room Cronus has stumbled you both into is already occupied. By Mituna and Kurloz. Yes. Exactly what you wanted to see.

Cronus darts across the room to give Kurloz a high-five before he drags you out and into the next room.

This one turns out to be a bathroom. Charming, you think, as he sits you onto the counter and kneels, lifting your shirt and burying his head in it. You gasp sharply, head cocking backwards as your body arches into his breath when he kisses your ribs.

You fumble to clutch at his hair as he bites at the fleshy part of your side, but, as he has hidden himself underneath your shirt, you merely feel him shift beneath the fabric. He rolls his tongue over your nipple, you make a noise of protest and try to pull the shirt off of him, but he keeps it firmly down over him.

As he berates your chest with sloppy kisses you are prisoner to his mouth. That seems to be the case quite a lot lately. Granted you have not had sex save for the single time, and you wonder if this is what lust feels like. You want it, but you do not want to ask for it.

The sorry thing was that he probably wanted you to ask for it, and that was going to be a bitch and a half to deal with.

He comes up for air to find you a quivery, grouchy mess, glaring at him as he grins, leaning in for a kiss to your lips which you accept gratefully and without complaint. You feel your cock beginning to stiffen as he prods at your tongue with his own.

Gingerly you wrap your arms around his chest, bringing him closer. He’s got one hand bracing himself on the counter while the other searches down the front of your shirt, pausing to tease your nipple through the fabric, before continuing on.

“You gettin’ horny, chief?”

“If you keep touching me in such a way I’m going to have to admit that yes, I think I would consider that a good choice of words to describe my current predicament.” You babble. Is it just the alcohol? You think it might be. Everything feels explosively good, and you let your imagination run wild as he kisses your neck.

“You’re sexy when you talk like I don’t get it.”



He pulls you off of the counter and you find yourself sitting on the floor with him. The bathroom is wanting for space, and you groan softly, sitting cockeyed in a space meant for a horizontal mass.

“You sure you don’t wanna suck it, Kan? C’mon, chief, I’d do it for you…” You stare at him, watching as he slides his hand down the front of his jeans, he’s touching himself and wow that’s hot. That’s very fucking hot.

“No… I don’t want to.”

“…maybe just touch it a little for me? C’mon, babe, what’re you so scared of?”

“…I don’t know.”

Cronus assumes a position much more suited for the floorspace you have been allotted, his back against the counter as he semi-sits, drawing you close to his chest. He takes your hand in his.

“It’s not gonna bite.”

You take a deep breath and let him guide your hand to where it settles against the warmth of his erection. You rub it slowly, tentatively, feeling your heart skip beats as Cronus arches his hips into your hand, making a weak noise.

“That’s it… just like that…” He whispers into your mouth as you knead him, slowly and gently, feeling yourself grow wet in your jeans. You can make him feel good, can’t you? You want to make him feel good. You stroke him with gusto, gently massaging his cock with the fleshy part of your hand.

He moans feebly. You join him, your own cock begging to be touched, and you want badly to ask for it but the words don’t seem to want to come play. You whine. He laughs quietly.

“We’ll worry about you in a minute… lemme enjoy this.” Cronus leans his head back with a happy, quiet groan, eyes closing as he rolls his hips up into your hand. You wished you knew what else to do here.

Mercifully though he’s had enough after a couple more minutes and he drags you onto his lap and starts to fumble in your pants. You’re panting as he unzips your jeans and feels around in there for your cock. You’re slick and wet, fresh precum smearing his hand as he strokes you gently, his mouth latched neatly to your throat.

You moan.

Cronus is fumbling for something in his back pocket. “I wanna do it,” He murmurs, his voice weak as he withdraws his wallet. “What do you think? Wanna?”

He’s let go of your cock and you can merely grunt in dissatisfaction, narrowing your eyes a little as you watch him withdraw a condom.


“We don’t have any- you know.” You laugh drunkenly, shaking your head. “Any stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can find some.” Cronus uses the tub for support as he gets to his feet. You stare in awe at his cock, visibly straining the front of his jeans as he digs in the medicine cabinet and then in the cupboard under the sink, squinting. He pulls out a bottle of what you recognize as baby oil.

“…that works?” You question immediately, eyes widening as you take the bottle from him and stare at it in wonder.

“Sure does.”

You are not sure what makes you do this but you start to shimmy out of your jeans, leaving your sweater on for god knows what reason. Breathing shallowly, you kick them away. Cronus sits on the edge of the bathtub, watching, probably knowing what you’re going to do.

“…warn me when you put that on.” You tell him, nodding at the condom as you slide your boxers down, hands shaking. You pour probably a little too much oil onto your fingers and, spreading your legs awkwardly, start to gingerly penetrate yourself.

Cronus can just nod, his jaw hanging somewhat as he watches you, seemingly spellbound. His free hand is stroking himself through his jeans, which he then undoes. You see the stretch of his boxers, they’re pale purple, almost a lavender color, darkly stained with precum and something about that makes you whine.

Your fingers inside you feel spectacular. You do not ever make a habit of masturbating but maybe you will have to invest in a bottle of baby oil just so you can do this and think of Cronus. It’s not his fingers but it feels damn nice all the same, yours are smaller and you can fit at least two.

“You’re hot.” He breathes, leaning in and kissing your lips. Bracing one hand on the counter, his other one wraps around your cock and he strokes you slowly, steadily, sucking at your bottom lip.

Somebody knocks at the bathroom door.

“Why does this always happen?” You hiss at him, words unsteady, “Why? Every time we wanna do stuff somebody’s got to use the bathroom. Cronus! Stop being sexual in bathrooms-”

“Occupied!” He barks at the door, before returning to his kiss. You close your eyes, can hear him unzip his fly. He lets go of your dick for just a second as he unwraps the condom, you finally pull your fingers out of yourself. You were trying to reach that awesome little switch, apparently your fingers are too short to make it happen and that blows. His cock isn’t though. That’s definitely the right size.

“You wanna lube me up, too?” Cronus asked you, taking your hand after he’d rolled on the preventative. It was still sticky and slick with the oil. “You got a lot on your hands still..”

You wonder for a moment why they call it a preventative. Oh, but then again, not everybody uses them for gay sex. You snort with laughter at the thought, and nod. “…okay.” Your eyes are still closed, he guides your hand and you feel it bump clumsily into his erect cock. You take it. “How come yours is so much bigger than mine?”

“I’m a big guy.” Cronus purrs weakly as you start to stroke and lube up his cock, wiping the excess onto his head, where you know he’ll need it most when he pushes into you. “You’re a little guy. That’s the reason.”

You can’t help but giggle weakly. Drink makes you see the humor in everything, and, maybe, it might also make you a little more adventurous? Cronus groans softly. You squeeze him gently, and you feel him tense, then melt back into a fluid affection as he kisses your lips again, moaning against them. You really can make him feel good, can’t you? The very thought makes a warm pride settle in your chest, and, finally, as you pull your hand away and wipe the remnants onto your bare thigh, he takes you by the waist and leans back on the counter again.

“…come sit on me.”

It occurs to you that he wants you to ride him.

“…I dunno how to do that…”

“You’ll learn. C’mere.”

You settle on top of him, keening softly, as you can feel the warm head of his cock pressing lightly against your ass. You breathe. He rests his hands on your hips and starts to guide you down. You cringe and whine- the feeling is as you remember it, uncomfortable and a little painful as you stretch for him and fuck there it is, the initial feeling as the head just sort of pops in. “Ow…”

“Yeah, I know…” Cronus whispers against your ear. The room feels very hot, probably because you’re still wearing your dumb sweatshirt. Cronus is entirely dressed, he’s just essentially whipped out his dick for you to sit on and remaining fully clothed on top of it. You wish you could do that. The less skin you have to show the better.

Maybe someday you’ll have sex naked. That would be interesting.

You convulse with a soft cry of shock as he nudges your prostate with the head of his dick.

“Found it.”

“Shut up.”

It turns out that riding him isn’t as hard as you think it would be. He seems to do a lot of the work, just holding you in place as he uses your ass as his little fucktoy. You have your arms wrapped tightly around him, panting into his ear and groaning for him every time he hilts, and fuck does it feel good.

You don’t have room to pleasure yourself in the meantime. Your cock is trapped between your stomach and his, and you can’t get a hand down there to try and do anything with it. It is, however, rubbing happily with your clothing, and you groan softly in appreciation. The friction’s nice and you find yourself moving in time with him.

It comes oddly naturally. Your toes curl, you arch your back.

As always, Cronus Motormouth Ampora has something to say when he’s doing you.

“Aw, yeah… that’s so good… you’re perfect, babe, god, you’re so good and tight, you feel fantastic around my dick like that… yeah… how’s it feel? Feel good? I bet your cock’s real wet…”

You feel yourself turn crimson, nodding weakly and hiccuping a soft, “Yes,” into his ear, feeling him hilt into you again and you tremble, discomposing yourself. You wish he’d hurry up, you’re starting to feel mildly sore. Keening, you clutch the front of his jacket.

“Cronus go faster please-”

He complies with a soft growl, and the friction rubbing your dick against your clothes seems to intensify. You toss your head back, gasping, body arching. He pushes a little, you lean back, and for the first time you see his face, it looks absolutely sexy. Teeth grit, his eyes half-open, a fine crimson coating his cheeks as he steadily rocks your world. A smugness to his smirk makes you whine pitifully. There is now room to jerk yourself off, and you do so, finding yourself absolutely slick and soaked in precum and that makes coming all the more easy.

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop god yeah jerk it baby do it for me Kanny yesssss oh hell yes that’s it-”

You are afraid that if you allow yourself to climax freely then you’re definitely going to lose it all over him. He probably would be less than thrilled. As he hilts into you once more you cry out louder than you thought possible, fucking your hand with numb pleasure as he makes you come.

Clamping both hands over your head, you spill into your hands so as to not get it on him, and you cringe, feeling him start to come inside you. You wonder what it feels like without the condom. Probably gross. Wouldn’t it all just leak out?

Your head spins, you both come down, and you sit on the bathroom floor, panting weakly at one another with a blank, oversexed stare.



“…I was thinkin’, Kanny,” He murmurs, softening inside you a little as his interest begins to fade, “Maybe sometime we oughta try this in a bed. I think it might be interesting. What do you say?”

You lean back against his knees and groan, trying not to touch anything whatsoever with your jizz-covered hands. “…I think that’d be great. Can you help me up so I can rinse my hands off?”

“Lick them off.”

“You’re disgusting, also drunk. Now help me.”

By the time you get back out into the party, it has started to wind down. As you step out into the darkness, Kurloz passes with Mituna in tow.

Mituna slaps you a high-five, which you return with a small chuckle, and you’re content to spend the rest of the night under Cronus’s affectionate arm as he finds a couch for the both of you to curl up on. You can pretend the rest of the party isn’t happening, too busy letting Cronus murmur sweet nothings into your ear as, finally, the alcohol and the exhaustive sex finally taking its course as you pass out, like a good little frat pledge.