The Roommate Agreement: Chapter 2 - A Lot Like Lust

My dick has always put me in tricky situations.

Take my sophomore year. I was in Algebra 1 with Adrian Daniels. He should have been a junior but had been held back the year before.

Cute. Dumb. Totally my type at the time.

So there we were in class, and I knew he was struggling. I could feel those blue eyes on me. Weighing every inch of me. Choosing me. Out of everyone in that classroom, he saw a spark in me worth...

Okay. He was copying my paper. The point is he noticed me. Sort of.

So what did I do?

The only thing a horny high school boy in that situation would do.

I moved my paper over to let him cheat.

My plan would have worked, too, if Mrs. Johnston, who looked like a grandma on a power trip, hadn’t stopped us. I still remember finishing my test while he took forever, and remember when I said he was dumb? Well, yeah. He wasn’t exactly being cavalier with the peeking.

So the universal cockblock, i.e. Mrs. Johnston, interrupted our flirty endeavor, called us to the front, accused us of cheating, and sent us to the principal.

It was in that moment we became the gay Bonnie and Clyde of Roosevelt High. Fighting the system that ignited our passions even more. Or that’s what I thought would happen.

What actually happened is I got two weeks of detention, he got suspended, and he never remembered my name.

The point is, guys have never made me think straight, and there’s been zero payoff.

So when Connor suggested we help each other out as roommates, I figured it was a tease, or my imagination. That being said, I wanted it to happen.

Bad.

I woke up right at 7 a.m. the next morning, practically ready for whatever he wanted to do.

I watched him sleep. Wanting him to wake up and suggest we do things.

But he lay there. Sleeping in. Being a selfish jerk.

Each time he stirred, I repositioned myself on the bed, trying to look confident and sexy, but I felt like I only looked crazed, desperate, and like a complete psycho.

Taking a break from whatever Connor had in store, I decided I needed a cold shower before my roommate put a restraining order on me.

When you’re in college and gay, the best thing isn’t the education. It isn’t the time away from family. It’s the shower room.

Had anyone told me about the showers at school, the kind with rows of hot college-age flesh peeking from behind curtains and showing off, I would have graduated high school in six months.

Walking in there, I wasn’t shy around naked men. I just wasn’t used to this much of it. Before I even reached my shower, I’d seen four butts, three cocks (one larger than I thought possible), and enough masturbation material for a lifetime.

Loved it.

So there I was, horned up, ready to take Connor up on his offer and whatever it meant. And he was still asleep.

How much sleep does one man need? We were up late, but it wasn’t exactly an all-nighter. Wake up!

So now I was two things. Horny and irritated.

I took a page out of my mother’s playbook and started getting MY day going, moving around the room. Loudly, while trying to make it sound accidental.

I started by heating up breakfast in the microwave. Slammed the door shut.

Put yesterday’s clothes in the hamper. Dropped my keys.

Anything to wake him.

Nothing.

Had he been tranquilized by poachers in the middle of the night?

Giving up, I grabbed my book and started reading. Or trying to, when I wasn’t staring at Connor, willing him awake.

I had nearly surrendered when he finally deemed himself ready to start the day.

“Oh, hey. Morning.”

“Hey,” I said, flipping pages in internal rage.

“Wow, you’re up early. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” I said, eyeing the drawer hiding my lube bottle.

“Do we have coffee?”

“Yeah. Want me to make you a cup?” I said, jumping up too soon.

“Sure,” he laughed.

Coffee? Ugh. Why don’t we get off first, then coffee and breakfast? A hand job. A quick makeout sesh. Nothing crazy.

While I made his coffee, I could sense him moving around the room behind me, and my hands shook with nervous anticipation as I finished brewing.

Could he sense what I was feeling?

I handed him the coffee and I might as well have been some unnamed barista. A simple thanks, and he lay back down, flipping through his phone.

How does a guy go from talking about sex, about experimenting with each other, to lying around watching Rick and Morty on his phone for forty minutes? Was he having second thoughts? Did I snore in my sleep and he hates that? I’m cute. Cute enough, and available. He should want to do things with me, right?

His laughing at his phone felt like a mocking gesture aimed at everything I was feeling.

This was going to be a long year.

We sat around the room the rest of the morning, making small talk and flipping through our phones, mine getting squeezed in every moment of silence.

“Hey, one thing I noticed about last night,” he said out of the blue. I nearly leapt into his bed for whatever nasty fantasy he’d cooked up.

“We don’t have much in the way of groceries.”

Groceries. That’s what we were talking about, like some sixty-year-old married couple. We should have been talking about how he wanted to squeeze my peach, not buy them.

I wanted to open Google and search “how to switch out my roommate for someone who actually wants to get off.”

Instead, I searched for the nearest grocery store and gave him a really strong talking to in my head.

By the time we got to the store, I was no longer mad at him. Not sure if it was that I had time to cool down during the four-minute car ride or that his white tank top and running shorts had me completely thinking of other things.

Either way, all was forgiven.

We made it to the cereal aisle, where he grabbed a box that looked like it contained twigs and regret.

“No,” I said.

He looked at the box. “What?”

“We have to live together. I can’t let people see this in our room.”

“It’s cereal.”

“It has twelve grams of fiber.”

“So?”

“So nothing with that much fiber has ever brought anyone joy.”

He put it into the cart anyway.

I grabbed a box of chocolate cereal and set it beside his.

He stared at it. “Are you twelve?”

“Emotionally? On a good day.”

He laughed. One of those laughs that you knew wasn’t to just be polite.

“Okay,” he said. “We get both.”

“Look at us compromising. We’re going to be amazing roommates.”

When we got back to the dorms, we sat on our beds and enjoyed the spoils of our romantic getaway. The sun was finally starting to set and the warm glow of dusk was sneaking through our blinds. You could almost feel the summer heat drop with each passing hour.

“Hey, Ethan.”

“Yeah?”

“You know what we should do?”

FUCK! We should FUCK!

“No, what?” I said casually.

“We should play cards.”

Cards? Cards? Okay, that was it. I was calling the FBI. An eighty-year-old woman had switched bodies with my roommate and was trying to drive me insane, kicking off a worldwide panic to trigger a government coup.

“That sounds like a great idea,” I said calmly.

Pussy.

He reached under his bed in a manner that showed off each defined muscle. I tried my best, and failed, not to lick my lips as he dug deep beneath the frame, found a container, and pulled out a deck of playing cards. They looked new. Brand new.

In fact, they still had the wrapping on them. I could see my reflection in the plastic covering the national park theme on the box.

So he liked the outdoors?

Sexy.

Maybe he could take me out to Mammoth Cave and explore my caverns.

He opened the deck and started shuffling. Making a bridge with such precision he had to have done it a hundred times. Oh my God, maybe this was how he lured guys into his sex den.

Cards.

I bit down on the sleeve of my hoodie, chewing it while I watched him shuffle. His voice startled me.

“You know what would help?”

Please. Please say sucking your dick.

“What?”

“You coming over here so I can deal you in.”

“Oh. Right!” I said too quickly, jumping off my mattress and stubbing my toe on my backpack, nearly getting tangled in the straps as I lost my footing, then gracefully, or not, recovered.

I climbed into bed beside him, and honestly, Axe Phoenix had never smelled so good. Yes, I knew which one it was. No, I wasn’t proud.

“Okay, what game should we play?” Connor asked.

STRIP POKER!

“I dunno. I don’t know many games,” I said, almost too shyly.

“Hmm. What about Egyptian Rat Screw?”

What about screwing Ethan?

“Okay, but you’ll need to teach me,” the lie escaping my lips too quickly.

Connor shuffled the deck again. He had this cute habit where, anytime he tripped up on the rules, he’d scratch his nose.

I caught most of them. Being that close to him while he wore a cutoff shirt had me lost in thought, staring at his arms.

“Earth to Ethan.” He snapped his fingers in my face, bringing me back to attention.

“Sorry, what?”

“Let’s get started and I’ll teach you as we go.”

Yes, daddy!

The deck was split. We had our two separate piles. I was horny as all get-out.

“Okay, you can start,” Connor said with a slight mischievous grin as I reached for the first card.

My finger touched the edge of it. I tilted it up. I looked at Connor, who was watching my fingers work the corner. God, he was so cute. I flipped over the card. Eight of clubs.

Nothing.

I watched his tanned arm extend as he grabbed his card and turned it over. Seven of diamonds.

Nothing.

I reached for my card, letting the edge dig into my index finger.

Three of spades.

Nothing.

Okay, this game was kind of boring.

Connor reached over looking like he was working out string theory, and pulled his card.

Queen of hearts!

I had two chances.

Nine of diamonds. Crap.

Jack of spades. YES!

I let out a smug laugh.

Connor gave me a less than approving look as he reached for his next card.

Two of hearts.

“Fuck!” he yelled, a bit too loud this early in the game.

“Sorry,” I said in fake modesty.

“Beginner’s luck,” he said, pushing my shoulder.

The heat around my neck spiked at his touch.

I flipped a card over.

Ten of hearts.

Nine of hearts.

Three of spades.

Three of clubs.

There it was. Two matching cards. My hand darted for the three of clubs like a hawk dropping on a field mouse.

My palm smacked the card.

Then, SLAP.

His hand landed on top of mine. And held there a second longer than it should have.

Was that in my head?

Connor cleared his throat. “Your turn.”

The tingle from the slap lingered on my hand, and I wondered if it would feel as good bent over his lap while he spanked me.

Ethan. Focus.

I reached over to flip the next card. I could feel his eyes on me, and when I looked up, he wasn’t watching my hand. He was watching my eyes.

My heart pounded as I glanced down and turned over the card.

Ace of spades.

“So, Ethan. Did you like sucking that guy’s cock?”

Physics broke in that moment, and I landed the card closer to his foot than the deck.

“What?” My voice cracked.

He played his card.

“When you had his cock in your mouth,” he said, looking up. “How did it feel?”

“I, uh.” I stuttered, reaching for the cards, struggling to pick up even one. “It was nice,” I finally managed, flipping my card.

He smiled and played his.

Wait. Did he want me to suck his dick? Was this a green light for my mouth to make its landing? Light up the runway, I’m ready to land!

“Nice,” he said, nodding. He played a card.

I grabbed mine and started to turn it.

“Did he cum in your mouth?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly, and played my card.

His hand drifted to his crotch and adjusted himself. I swallowed. And no, not like with the guy in high school. My heart hadn’t been lodged in my throat then.

“Ethan?” Connor started, and I looked up. “You’re forgetting a step.”

SLAP.

“You bastard,” I said, giving him a half-hearted glare.

“Not my fault you got distracted.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were. Can’t tell if it was my question or me grabbing my cock that threw you.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if a hot...” He looked at me, and I swear he blushed. “A guy. A regular guy. You. Is in front of me touching his cock.”

“I barely did, and this happens.” He took a drink. “Well. This is going to be easy.”

With that, his foot pressed against my knee, his big toe rubbing lightly along the side of it.

This was going to be a long game.

“Ethan.”

“Yeah?” I said, looking up at him again.

“Are you finally ready to get off?”