Chapter Text
Jill Warrick was used to being home alone at night.
At one point in time, the thought had frightened her; loneliness and darkness didn't mix well for her after a rough upbringing, but she'd learned to ignore every creak of the apartment as it swayed. The sounds were not footsteps of someone creeping through the hallway towards her room. It had taken time, but she'd gotten there.
When they first got the apartment, Jill had been grateful that her best friend and roommate, Clive Rosfield, was there with her. He'd spent several a night on the couch if only to relieve her nerves, despite his bed being one room away. And she was forever grateful for him.
But he'd been switched to a nightshift, and was gone for during the evenings for about half the week, and Jill had learned how to cope on her own.
Most of that involved keeping herself distracted.
She scrolled through her phone while sprawled out on the couch.
A message popped up from Tarja, Jill's best friend. It was a link.
Without even questioning it, Jill clicked the link and waited, only to be redirected. You must have an account to view this page.
"Tarja," Jill groaned. She texted back. "[I need an account. Is this worth it?]"
"[Oh yes.]"
With a roll of her eyes, Jill used her second email to create herself a profile on some site she'd never heard of before. Waiting patiently as it loaded, she couldn't help but wonder what it was Tarja had sent her.
Until the page loaded, and she was met with several pictures of a man's torso.
By the Founder, he was the most chiseled man Jill had ever seen in her entire life. Though his face was hidden, she was greeted by several smiles of every dip in his abdomen, every crevasse that she longed to run her hands over. The six pack was almost overshadowed by his broad chest and toned arms. Veins poked at his skin as he flexed, and Jill felt her face get particularly hot.
She scrolled to the next photo. It was similar, a new pose, but there was more with the tease of a deep cut V on his hips that pointed exactly where Jill was now terribly curious about. Hair rose up and spotted his stomach, and Founder, Jill wanted to run her hands all along him. Maybe more than her hands.
There was one person who's face she was able to pretend was on the pictures.
She swiped again.
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She quickly swapped off the page and called Tarja.
"Hello?" Tarja answered sweetly.
"You! Who is this man?"
"I don't know! But Greagor, isn't he fine? Don't you just want to see more?"
"Yes! But you're a devil, Tarja. You can't tempt me."
"Not even that sexy V? I mean, I didn't even need to see his face to just wish this man would put a baby in me."
"Tarja!"
"What?"
Jill pressed her palm into her eyes. "Do you have the other pictures? Did you pay?"
"I didn't. I was hoping you might want to see more?"
"No! I'm not paying for this!"
"Shame. I would have loved to know what that man's hiding below the crop."
Jill sighed and hung up. She was used to short bursts of conversations with Tarja where neither of them would actually say goodbye. But she'd wanted to hang up the phone for another reason.
Jill grabbed her laptop and brought it over to the couch, logging into her new account so she could stare at this man's chest on a much bigger screen.
"Ugh!" Jill hissed before slamming the 'subscribe' button and dropping her credit card info into the subscription fee box.
She was one of thousands of followers, and she had her fake email. What did she care?
QueenShiva appeared in the corner of her screen, and she was in.
And just like that, Jill's world expanded tenfold.
She hurried back to his page and finally started to pay attention. His name was DominantIfrit, and she'd be remiss if she didn't admit that his name had her already intrigued.
She could imagine this man, this Ifrit, using his strong arms to pin her down on the bed. She was strong, but there was no way she'd win against muscles like that, nor did she particularly want to. Jill smirked to herself. He could pin her down, or easily pick her up, press her against a wall with ease. Hell, he didn't need a wall. He was strong enough.
She swiped off the picture of his chest.
Oh.
Oh Founder.
Jill's hands clapped over her mouth, and she lowered the lid, as though Clive were behind her and could see what she was staring at. Because on her screen, as she fully expected and yet didn't expect at all, was a thick cock grasped firmly in his hand.
A chill ran through Jill's body as she raised the lid back up. Clive wasn't due back for several hours still, and looking at this in her bedroom somehow felt wrong.
But oh, how she wanted to. How she wanted to go in there and imagine a certain roommate of hers being the one to pin her to the bed. Clive had muscles that he brutally tormented her with by keeping them beneath his sleeves. Even in the summer months, Clive was a sucker for a long shirt. But oh, how she longed for that man to pull it off, to watch her as she laid back. To take off his shirt with devilish slowness. And when he was done, he could unzip his tight jeans and stroke the length of himself without ever looking away.
Founder, Founder, Founder.
Fuck.
Jill stood up and jogged into the kitchen, splashing her face with water as she took several deep breaths to calm herself. It had been some time since she'd embarrassed herself to this degree, and it had been a far different circumstance. Yet here she was, alone, and suffering from absolute horror as if Clive had walked right in on her thoughts.
For nearly five years, she'd been head over heels for her best friend and roommate, Clive, and she wasn't sure there was a cure, so for better or for worse, she'd given into accepting that this was just her life now. And she'd done everything she could to stave off the thoughts she had about him, especially when he'd drape his legs over her while they ate popcorn in their pajamas, or when he ran outside in the rain in sweatpants and a tight shirt.
So now- and Jill had a very vivid imagination- she was picturing Clive in far fewer clothes, and she could just about imagine that the very appealing cock and muscular Adonis body on her computer screen was of him.
Fanning her face, Jill headed back to the couch and sat down, perched up on her knees before looking at the screen again.
Ifrit was wearing unzipped jeans, which she was convinced weren't actually on in the other pictures, but she lacked for nothing as she leaned in closer to the screen. His cock was thick and veiny, uncut.
Oh Founder.
What was Clive?
Jill threw herself back on the couch and pulled a pillow over her eyes.
With the world hidden behind her eyes, she could picture Clive, who always changed in the bathroom, exiting their shared bathroom sopping wet in nothing but a towel. His chest was the one in the picture, everything she thought was perfect aesthetically about a man. He'd come over to her on the couch, lean over her. His wet hair would drip down on her shirt, on her pants.
"Hey," she could hear him say in his low, gravelly voice that she loved so much. "You're getting wet."
She sure was.
Her body was wracked with a shudder and she found her hand slipping under her shirt, teasing her nipple where the drops of water from his hair were falling.
"That's right, Jill," she could hear him say. His hand was where hers was in her mind. "That's a good girl."
Jill whined, her other hand slipping beneath the waist of her pants. She couldn't imagine the real Clive saying that, in truth. He was more likely to ask her if she was okay a thousand times. But she was in her imagination, and she didn't mind embellishments.
Her practiced hand was far too small to be Clive's, but she threw her head to the side as she toyed with her clit, sighing in relief as she worked herself up, felt every nerve alight as she thought of Clive standing over her, the towel falling from his hips and him not even caring. She glanced at the screen for a refresher of Ifrit's dick, and then let her eyes close again, slipping a finger inside herself, rocking against her hand as she breathed out, "Clive," in the softest voice she could manage. And even that, she choked on a gasp, and her finger slipped deeper. It was enough.
Jill's body tensed and twitched as she felt warmth cover her. And as her body relaxed, she felt pleasure take over every muscle, every limb, luring her into peaceful bliss.
When she opened her eyes, Clive wasn't there, but Ifrit's pictures were still on her screen. But Jill closed the lid of her laptop and leaned back on the couch.
She'd learned to be alone at night. But now, with backolgged pages upon pages of photos from Ifrit, she didn't have to be alone any longer.