Chapter Text
Your roommate was weird. And not in the eccentric type of weird, where it was just an endearing quirk, just plain weird. Not that weirdness is inherently bad, but it was quite obvious that he was just different. From the way he carried himself, to the things he talked about - no wonder you two got along as well as you did. Which was saying something, actually. Because you knew next to nothing about him, the enigma he is. You knew... his name (and not even his full one), and.... and... that you both liked The Krotchy Show. That was it, really. Seriously - that was the only thing you could bond over, it was part of why you decided to have him as a roommate in the first place, for fucks sake.
Truth be told, at the time you were pretty desperate for one and he was one of the four people that messaged you about it. The other three people seemed too uptight about it, for a one-bathroom apartment that could barely fit two people in it. Cleaning schedules, no pets, no noise after 10pm, no smoking, actually, one of the especially overbearing cunts tried to get you to sign a roommate agreement, what the fuck?
So it was like God himself had descended the fateful day that Dude popped up into your Facebook messages with one of the most intelligent messages you'd ever read on that godforsaken platform.
"hey im lookijng 4 a place 2 stya andd i saw ur looking 4 a roomie is it cool if i crash. i can pay hafl the rent hoepfully"
His account was completely barren. No posts, no other contacts, but there's no way a bot of any kind conjured that kind of butchering of the word 'looking', and he asked no other unnecessary questions. And when you agreed to meet him at a pub, boy, was he the perfect candidate.
First, he didn't treat it like a fucking job interview. Second, he was cool with you smoking indoors. Generally, you just clicked. Oh, and the Krotchy thing; granted, he was a much bigger fan than you, but it was an interest you both had in common.
Now, because of him, the place did always reek of weed, among other drugs, but you didn't mind; it was mostly your landlord that you were worried about. That pig was somehow more insufferable than the person that asked you to sign a roommate agreement. And also because of Dude, neither of you ever got any cleaning done because he was always inviting you to smoke and watch Krotchy - again, not to your dismay, just because you didn't want you two to get evicted.
You squinted at the sunlight peeking through the blinds, sprawled across the couch in nothing but a pair of pyjama shorts. Stacks upon stacks of dishes piled up in the sink and all over the bench. The dulcet tones of Gary Coleman's voice served as background noise. The A/C was broken. Again. In the middle of Arizona summer.
You were so sweaty you wanted to peel your skin off and curl up in the freezer. Alas, you only had a one-door fridge. Perhaps you could sit in the only slightly cool main compartment instead. You considered it for a moment. No, even though you may have fit in there. You'd have to take all the food, rotting and not, out. And that meant work... which wasn't on the table. If you were to exert yourself even a little, you'd probably pass out. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. But you would almost pass out, you were sure.
"Shit, man. Could've warned me before I walked in on you basically butt-ass naked."
You whipped your head around to meet eyes with Dude, a plastic bag hanging off his left arm. You rolled your eyes at his comment.
"Unless it gets forty degrees cooler, I'll be staying like this."
"...Yeah, okay. Fair enough."
It wasn't like neither of you had seen each other in various states of undress before either, so it definitely wasn't like this was strange for you two. No. Nothing is weird. Not like that one time you'd popped a pretty proud chub when you walked in on Dude undressing when he was about to have a shower. Absolutely nothing is weird. As a matter of fact, it was completely, utterly, excruciatingly normal. You saw a guy, a nude one, and you, well -- not you, your body, reacted accordingly. And you never spoke of it again and the image was not burned into your mind. Most certainly not.
Dude set the bag down on the floor and pulled out, honestly, a pretty sad grocery haul. Yoghurt, bread, chili sauce, ham. Knowing Dude, he bought them all to eat together at the same time. Wouldn't have been the most nasty food combination he's willingly eaten; that title still belonged to the pickles, mustard, honey, blue cheese and salami combo. He ate like a fucking pregnant woman sometimes.
You watched with disdain as Dude strode over to the couch with exactly what he had just bought in his hands. He cleared a spot on the coffee table, swiping away the buildup of blunts and cigarette butts onto the floor. Setting the bread on the table, he peeled the lid on the small yoghurt tub back and emptied it onto a slice. You knitted your brows. He put two slices of the ham on the other slice, proceeded by a healthy dousing of chili sauce on them. Once he finished his concoction, he slapped the two slices of bread together with the ingredients in the middle and brought it up to his mouth. A bit of yoghurt spilled onto his goatee.
"That's fucking rancid. You're not seriously gonna eat that, right?"
"Yeah, I am. Wanted to try something new," He smirked as he spoke. You didn't think he was being dead serious.
Dude took a bite and his expression, miraculously, didn't change. He was unphased. As a matter of fact, it seemed like he was fucking enjoying it. He licked some more yoghurt off his finger and swallowed.
"Ya know, thish ish acshually pretty good. You wan' shome?"
"No. You can have it."
He shrugged and turned back to his vile creation, taking another bite. Yeah, tastebuds were different on everyone. Yeah, people have different likes for different things. But as you watched him scarf the yoghurt-ham-chili sandwich down you couldn't see anyone else looking at that and actually wanting to try it on their own volition. Just imagining it made you gag a little. You sat up and started making your way toward the kitchen. Hey, hopefully he brought home alcohol. However, that was pretty unlikely as he hated any type of alcohol; you usually had to supply yourself.
You opened the fridge door to see... nothing. Except for the rest of the yoghurt and ham that Dude just brought home. Sighing, you took a couple slices of ham and folded them over, gnawing on the pure meat sandwich. Said 'sandwich' tasted like a school lunch. Whatever was in that stuff couldn't have been good. You thought you could taste the microplastics, but perhaps you were just thinking about it too hard. Walking back to the couch, you noticed Dude had already finished his sandwich, thank god.
He'd turned his attention to The Krotchy Show now, watching with an amount of interest that no middle-aged man should have for a kid's show about an anthropomorphic penis while he got himself comfortable. He too sprawled himself across the couch, a leg dangling off the edge off the seat - the singular couch you two shared and usually found yourselves accidentally cuddling on when you did movie marathons over the weekend. Then you'd have to peel yourselves off each other because you usually got a little sweaty exchanging body heat, sharing awkward glances afterward and moving to opposite ends of the cushions.
Not in a weird way, though.
Or gay.
Resolutely not that either.
Because Dude wasn't gay.
He wasn't, right?
You put a hand to your chin as you plopped back down onto the couch to passively consume the adventures of Krotchy with Dude once more. Just another familiarity, another routine you found you had fallen into while living with Dude. Okay, well, he didn't seem gay. Not that he'd ever gotten into any relationships with... well, anyone in your time knowing him. He didn't seem the type to be tied down, anyway. He never spoke about anything like that though, only mentioning his apparently 'god-fucking-cat-piss-awful' ex-wife offhandedly a couple times. So he had dated one woman. Well, obviously, he didn't like her, but she was a woman, and he had to have liked her enough at some point to marry her, yes? You narrowed your eyes while you sank deeper into your thoughts.
Would he ever be interested in guys? Not you specifically... just a hypothetical, you know? He'd talked about his openly gay cousin before as well, and he didn't seem all too bothered about their identity. Then again, no gay guy has his fashion sense. Then again, what does that have to do with him being gay? Anyone can be gay, right? Also, the whole cuddling thing - if he was really confident in being straight, he wouldn't have scooted away from you literally blushing. Theeeen again... he could've just been warm from the body heat stuff...
"What? Do I have something on my face?"
"Huh?"
"You've been staring at me for five minutes."
"I have?? Sorry, I was, uh, thinking about something."
"Like what?"
"Nothing important - um, I wasn't paying attention to Krotchy, what's going on?"
"He's meeting Cheesy for the first time, the uncut one."
"Oh... right."
Dude made a small 'eugh' sound when he felt sweat drip onto his leg from his face, leading him to wipe a hairy arm across his forehead, sighing exasperatedly. He leant back forward to get a good view of Krotchy, elbows on his knees. From this angle, you could clearly see the dark sweat stains in the armpits of his shirt. To a normal person, that would've been gross.
You were not normal.
You shifted in your spot a little, putting on your best poker face even though you were unable to look away from Dude now. You stared at his pit like it was a fucking crystal ball, hopelessly fixated. You felt your face heat up a little as your mind wandered, briefly imaging what it would be like to get a good whiff of it. Shit. Why was this turning you on?
Your hand quickly mashed between your legs, in an attempt to hide your rapidly hardening dick. You squeezed your legs together too, which was perhaps not the best course of action as it squished your balls so uncomfortably you had to bite back a noise. This was fucking embarrassing.
Really beginning to rethink your decisions now, you wished so bad that you weren't just in shorts. Not even shorts that were good - or at least decent at hiding boners too, the type that showed your tented dick so obviously someone from fucking China could see it. The type where the material darkened painfully obviously when you leaked precum. Which you were. And the fabric was darkening where your tip was pressed. Yeah, you went commando, so what?
You needed out. Now. If you got up, Dude would look at you to say bye. If you initiated conversation, Dude would also look at you. And you can't just have your hand over your crotch, that's the biggest mistake you could make. You looked around the room frantically as if ziploc bags of weed and empty beer cans were going to help this situation. Well, they probably could take some mental strain off. Nothing that would actually help though. You bit your thumb.
In the midst of you glancing around your surroundings to search for something to aid in your escape, you accidentally caught onto Dude again. Now he was stretching across the couch with his hands above his head. That's not where you were looking though. Fuck. Shit. Cunt. Your dick stiffened tenfold. Every time you throbbed it hurt like hell. You really did want to lean in for a smell. You considered it for a second before reasoning yourself out of it.
"I'm going to my room," you leapt off the couch and waddled awkwardly, as fast as you could muster with a dick so hard it could cut diamonds, to your humble abode.
"...Whuh? Okay."
Dude barely had time to process that you'd even gotten up before you were slamming your door and the lock shut. He didn't seem to take any notes of your abrupt disappearance though, turning back to the TV and laying across the couch, now that he had it all to himself.
You fell backwards onto your bed, propping your legs on the frame and letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding in as you tore your pants down, cock springing out and leaving a trail of pre on your abdomen.
Okay. Truth be told, maybe this wasn't the first time you rushed off to your room with a raging boner because of Dude. Maybe that time you walked in on him naked was more than just an awkward moment that you two never speak of now. And maybe, just maybe, you had rifled through his drawers while he was out and found the one vibrator he owned and used it on yourself. You don't even remember what you were looking for at the time, but the moment you found that, you realised there was another side to Dude you knew nothing about. On top of everything else you didn't know about him.
You bit the back of your hand, the other one with a nice grip and sliding up your already thoroughly lubricated dick. Not that either of you had lube, it was all the excess amounts of precum. Your thumb rubbed vigorously into the tip and you made a noise that you didn't know you could make. Your palm slammed over your mouth as you forced yourself silent, gaze darting to the door and listening for Dude. When you heard nothing but Gary Coleman's chatter, that was the confirmation that you could just go for it.
You stroked your thumb over your tip again, legitimately whimpering into your hand as you smeared the translucent liquid across your dick, using it as even more lube. You got your hand into a rhythm pretty quickly. But you weren't satisfied with your pacing, or, your dick wasn't; it kept telling you to speed up. You did, you sped up to the point where your forearm started to ache. It wasn't enough.
Your hand slid off your cock with a final upwards stroke, nothing came of it though. You squinted at your dick. 'I'm real sick of you. You know we can't do anything involving Dude.' Shaky legs lowered flat on the mattress while you accepted defeat again. You were still hard as hell though, can't go out to the living room like that. To try take your mind off the whole thing, you tucked your dick back into your shorts while sitting back up.
You had to do something about this. You can't keep living like this. You were positively going fucking crazy while having the hots for the same guy you lived with, with the knowledge that he was in just the next room over, and there was the possibility that you could in fact act on all your fantasies about him. Even though you tried to deny it, you tried to take your mind off him, you brought hookups home on occasion to satiate yourself, nothing compared to him. It wasn't like it was exactly easy to take your mind off him, anyway - you fucking lived with the guy. In a place like Paradise, he was real. And that wasn't common.
No. You weren't just going to keep thinking these thoughts. You were going to put them into action. Yes, yes. You would march up to Dude and explain exactly what you were thinking. And then, and then... he would hopefully not get weirded out. And then... sex! Nasty sex! Preferably for at least an hour! But even just twenty minutes would suffice!
You grabbed a nearby pillow, clutching it to your chest while you had a newfound look of determination on your face.