Quarantined With My Straight Roommate Read online

  “Fuck,” I gasped.

  Using his controlling hands he dragged me deeper into his mouth and wrapped his lips around my cock tightly taking the full length in and then slowly removing my staff. I closed my eyes and banged my head back against the wall. He sucked me harder, taking me deep and running his tongue along the underside of my cock. When I thought I was about to burst, he’d wrap his lips around the head and suck hard. I groaned and he pushed my whole cock deep into his mouth. When he made a gagging noise on my dick, I couldn’t help it any longer. I came. Hard.

  He swallowed every drop of my cum and stood up, unsmiling.

  “Holy fuck. That was good.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh shit.”

  He growled, “Turn around.”

  A bit of malicious pleasure glimmered in his eyes.

  “I thought you said—

  “Turn around,” he gasped, “I need to fuck you.”

  I was flaccid and exhausted from spilling my seed in his mouth but Tony didn’t care. He pushed me against the wall. My face hit the tiles and my breath fogged on one of them. My ass was already exposed.

  “Condom,” I said.

  “Condom,” he repeated mockingly, “Jeez, you’re such an annoying ass.”

  “It’s a random bathroom fuck. It’s called being safe.”

  He pushed me against the wall with his hips, his unsheathed cock dangerously close to my asshole.

  “If you think anything about this is safe, I’m doing it wrong.”

  My cock stiffened again.

  “Okay,” I said, “I got it.”

  “That being said, Matt. I’ll wear a condom.”

  “It’s Max.”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  My cheeks flushed again. Thankfully he couldn’t see how hard he was making me, how much I wanted him to hold me and fuck me against this bathroom wall and feel his thickness widening my ass and pumping into me. He rolled a condom onto his dick and he must have been ready for me because there was plenty of lube on his staff. The head of his cock parted my cheeks. I bit down on my lower lip hard and pressed my cheek against the wall. I groaned as he entered me.

  God he was so big and I wanted him so badly to cum inside me. He grabbed my hips and forced himself into me deeper. Even Tony the stoic groaned.

  “Your ass is tight,” he grunted.

  He pumped into me and my cheeks flushed again as he pounded me. I couldn’t stop myself from wanting him deeper. He pumped me fast and hard, using me as a warm satiny heat to bury his cock in. We groaned together, bodies pressed up against the wall as he plunged into me. His tongue reached out of his lips and he sucked on my neck making me stiff again as he fucked me hard. When I thought he was about to burst, he didn’t stop, but he slowed down and moved his hips gently between my ass cheeks. It was almost tender the way he fucked me. My nails braced against the walls. My tight ass gripped his cock and I could feel every vein in his cock as he slowly drove into my ass.

  “Do you like that?” He gasped in my ear, “Do you like feeling like I’m making love to you…”

  “Oh God…”

  “Do you like it?”

  He thrust into me hard, forcing me to groan and forcing me to answer him.

  “Y-yes…”

  “I don’t give a shit about you. I’m fucking you in the ass and I don’t give a shit about you.”

  I groaned and he finished. Of course, he finished. He was a total fucking asshole. He kissed my neck and it was almost romantic as he pulled his cock out of my ass. He rolled the condom off and tossed it on the ground.

  “Really?”

  “Shut the fuck up for one second.”

  He turned me around and kissed me on the lips again. I pulled my boxer briefs and pants up. He planted another kiss on me, intoxicating me. I felt that tenderness again. I was so fucked up. I grabbed his face and forced his lips apart with my tongue. A hint of a smile cracked across his face.

  “I guess it was good for you too.”

  “You’re fucked up,” I accused.

  He shrugged.

  “I know. But I need sex and apparently, so do you.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I don’t think we should see each other again. I don’t like to get tied down.”

  “Why would you assume I want to tie you down?”

  “You seem like the type.”

  He kissed my cheek and left. What a fucking asshole. I wish I knew his last name.

  Fuck Tony. Fuck him for being a prick. Fuck him for making me think about him. Fuck him for not being a decent guy. Fuck me for never going for decent guys and always going for hot assholes like Tony with perfect abs and green eyes and brown hair and freckled skin. Fuck him. I stalked out of the bathroom and past the bar. I’d forgotten about the bartender and then he grabbed my hand before I could stalk past the bar.

  “Hey. I was waiting for you. I just got off my shift.”

  My cheeks flushed. I was acting like he could see the fact that I got fucked in the bathroom on my face.

  “Hey. I’m uh… I’m going to my sister’s place. I’m… tired. Maybe you could stop by tomorrow?”

  “Sorry, babe, got work. What about the weekend? I don’t work Sunday.”

  “Sunday sounds good.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you then. Have my number. My name’s Peter, by the way.”

  “Max.”

  “I know you, boo. We’ll chill.”

  Why the fuck couldn’t I end up with guys like Peter. Where was the heat with guys like Peter, that flush of my skin and that heat on my neck. Why couldn’t I be attracted to normal guys. Peter wasn’t unattractive. He was beyond attractive too, but he wasn’t the guy who made me cum with his warm perfect mouth. He wasn’t the guy who could give me the hard fucking of a life time and pull me to a bittersweet edge as he whispered filthy things in my ear that shouldn’t have aroused me.

  But Peter was the kind of guy I needed — a relief. I drunkenly stumbled home and found Julissa in Mark’s arms on the couch straddling him, her hands raking through his blond hair. Mark glanced at me worried as if my very glance would turn him gay or something. I hated guys like him. They were almost worse than outright homophobes because they were just quiet and their silence spoke volumes. Mark grimaced and greeted me.

  “Hi.”

  “You look like shit,” Julissa teased.

  “Yeah.”

  “Fun night?” She asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Meet any hot guys?”

  Mark looked worried for a moment, as if I’d sit down and dish, exposing him to the horrors of life outside of boring heterosexual encounters.

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Ohhh, did you make out?”

  “I got his number,” I said.

  “Markie Mark is moving in tomorrow. We need help moving boxes.”

  “Uh, you don’t have to help, man. It’ll be heavy stuff.”

  Did he think that I couldn’t lift a few fucking boxes just because I like men? Some guys can be so stupid.

  “I’ll be around. Stick your head in if you need help.”

  His cheeks flushed. Was everything an innuendo to this simian? I slammed the door to my room. Julissa can be such a stupid brat sometimes. Now that asshole would be moving in with us and I didn’t want him here.

  3

  MAX PATEL

  Mark moved in and didn’t bother asking for help. Once the last box was moved inside, Mark hiked Julissa up onto the counter. She wrapped her brown legs around him and they kissed loudly. It sounded like someone slurping soup. I cleared my throat and Mark kept going. Whatever. There was no getting through to either of them. I spent the rest of the day in my room until an hour before Peter was supposed to stop by.

  I didn’t really know him except for the bar, and I didn’t want him to think that I was trying too hard. I put on a normal blue hoodie and grey jeans and then socks — the apartment was cold. Peter texted me.

  I’m outs
ide.

  I scrambled out to let him into the ground floor apartment. He smiled and he looked good, different from how he looked at the bar. He wore grey sweatpants and a t-shirt, even if it was way too cold out. His muscles bulged out from it. He was conventionally attractive, the sort of guy who would have no trouble on the apps.

  “Are you going to invite me in?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Come in.”

  “I don’t do hook ups, okay, so nothing’s going to happen tonight.”

  I didn’t invite him here for a hook up. I nodded awkwardly.

  “Sure. No hooking up. Got it.”

  He came in and took his shoes off.

  “Beer?”

  “Oh God yes. Ever since I started working at the bar, I can’t get enough.”

  “Drink IPAs?”

  “Yup. Pour me up.”

  He walked over to our kitchen island and surveyed the apartment.

  “Nice place. You live here alone?”

  “No, I live with my sister and her—

  Before I could finish, Julissa and Mark stumbled out of her bedroom giggling. Julissa’s curly waist-length black hair draped in front of her. She wore Mark’s corporate button down with no pants on and Mark was shirtless. My cheeks reddened as Peter blatantly checked him out.

  Mark turned red. He noticed it too.

  “Hey. I’m Peter.”

  Mr. Bartender was friendly and not at all put off by Julissa’s semi-nudity and her boyfriend’s visible grimace.

  “Mark.”

  “Julissa. Are you that guy from the bar?”

  “What bar?” Mark asked with an uneven tone.

  “I work at the Pink Zone,” Peter said, unbothered as he swigged from the beer I cracked open for him.

  Mark whispered to Julissa, “Isn’t that a gay bar?”

  Peter and I both heard him and exchanged knowing glances. Julissa smacked Mark on the chest playfully.

  “Shut up, Mark. Let’s leave them alone. It was nice to meet you. I only came out to get some wine.”

  She reached into the cupboard for a bottle of Yellow Tail Shiraz.

  “That’s mine,” I snapped.

  “Don’t be so fussy. I’ll pay you back.”

  She said that about the last few bottles of wine too. So far, Julissa owed me around $50 worth of wine she promised to pay me back for. I won’t be petty enough to mention the dinners she owes me for. I ignore her as she ambles off with my wine in tow. Peter says, “Your sister seems nice.”

  He’s not trying to throw shade, I don’t think.

  “Want to go back to my room and watch a movie?”

  Peter raises a suspicious eyebrow, but I’m not trying to make a move on him.

  “How about we watch one on the TV here.”

  Julissa won’t mind if we use the living room.

  “Sure,” I say, necking back more of my beer. We can’t decide what to watch for a moment and then we put on Train To Busan. It was Peter’s choice. I usually don’t go for scary movies. There was a safe distance between us. Peter was one of those people who liked talking over movies, but I didn’t mind.

  The movie was over and Peter spent the entire time live-tweeting the movie. Hey, his tweets were pretty funny. (I was reading them and retweeting them on the couch next to him.)

  He put his phone down with an exhausted sigh, like entertaining his 10.2k followers was a real full-time job.

  “So… your sister’s boyfriend. What do you think of him?”

  I shrug. Mark’s an asshole, but if I say that, I’ll seem like the asshole.

  “He’s okay.”

  “He’s sexy.”

  I hadn’t noticed. Peter leaned over, resting his head on my shoulder.

  “So is it offensive if I ask you something?”

  “Ask me what?”

  Peter fiddled with his septum piercing and asked bluntly, “Are you like… not fully white or something?”

  “My dad’s Indian. My mom’s from New York.”

  “Right. Cool. I was just wondering. You have that exotic look about you,” Peter said.

  I felt awkward. I liked Peter and he wasn’t unattractive. I was just… distracted.

  “Peter, can I ask you something?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Do you like… want to hook up?”

  “Yes.”

  Blunt. Straight-forward. I didn’t have to wonder how he felt about me.

  “Oh.”

  I must have been way less subtle than I thought because he eased back.

  “Oh. That’s… not what you want, is it?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Seeing someone else?”

  “Not really. Sort of. I’m just… distracted.”

  “Got it. Does it have anything to do with that guy in the club?”

  “Huh?”

  My heart pounded. We’d been subtle, right? And I didn’t want Peter to think I was the kind of guy to go for anonymous hookups in a club bathroom although I guess I was exactly that kind of guy.

  “I saw some guy tap your shoulder at the club. I figure you had a crush on him or something.”

  It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought then.

  “Yeah. It’s him.”

  Peter shrugged.

  “Well whatever. Can I have a kiss for my troubles at least?”

  He had a mischievous twinkle in his eye and I could fall in love with him under different circumstances. He was fun. Upbeat. Exactly the kind of guy I should want. The kind of guy who wouldn’t push me up against the wall of a nightclub bathroom and have his way with me.

  “No problem.”

  I leaned over and kissed Peter. He grabbed my cheeks and kissed me back so hard that I didn’t notice Julissa’s door open or hear Mark until he cleared his throat. Peter pulled away from me and winked.

  “I was just going.”

  Mark grunted, “Yeah. Good idea.”

  Peter blew me a kiss and he was out the door. Mark folded his arms and glowered at me.

  “What?”

  “It’s nothing. It’s just like… Never mind.”

  “No. What is it. Say what’s on your mind.”

  “Listen, I don’t like drama okay, so don’t worry about it, man.”

  I didn’t appreciate the insinuation, but I preferred ignoring guys like Mark. Guys who looked for any excuse to act out on their prejudice and disguised it convincingly to people like Ju, who saw the best in everyone except me, the brother who was more trouble than it was worth.

  4

  TONY STONE

  I can’t get that motherfucker off my mind. I hate that he has this power over me. I stood in front of my mirror, razor pressed against the stubble that cropped up last night. My phone buzzed. Dad again. He called once a week like clockwork even if I hadn’t accepted his calls in weeks. Maybe months.

  We have nothing to talk about. He let Tom go. Not just fired him, he abandoned him. For years, I’d never found out if Tom lived or died. He finally stopped posting on social media. I assumed the worst. I would never know if he was dead or alive, or if he remembered that summer. I had not been to Idaho since I turned eighteen and I hadn’t talked to Tom in… too many fucking years.

  I set the razor down and washed my face, dabbing aftershave over my chin. Client emails buzzed on my phone and I swiped to open them. Max. His name was Max. I didn’t want names. I didn’t want names anymore. I don’t like men. I can’t. I only went there when I needed relief or release and that week, my clients were fucking with me.

  The whole virus situation in China has investors shitting themselves and since I’m the youngest portfolio manager in my dad’s company, these blustering rich assholes who have never managed their own money a day in their fucking life think they call the shots.

  From: Alistair Vanderbilt

  To: Tony Stone

  Subject: SELL SELL SELL!

  I need you to sell 1500 shares of VRX, 2100 in HYT and give me an update on the Capital One account.

  — A />
  From: Herbert Cushing

  To: Tony Stone

  Subject: SELL SELL SELL!

  Fuck. The gas/oil account is fucked. Demolish it. Need cash out of there by next Thursday. Wife mad again.

  — Cush

  All the emails went something like that. Dad’s assistant mailed me a script telling me exactly what to say. Fuck. I hated when Jenny emailed me instructions instead of talking to me when we lived together. For now at least. Jenny planned to break her part of the lease and since she hadn’t found a replacement, we hadn’t been getting along.

  I don’t like people who fuck with my money. And this place was expensive as shit. I left the bathroom in my towel to find Jenny waiting outside. We’d done this dance countless times.

  “Hey Tony.”

  “Hey.”

  “Did you get my email?”

  “Yeah. I did. You need to email my dad and tell him that the clients are going fucking nuts. This virus won’t touch American soil.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Jenny wasn’t listening to me. Her gaze fixated on my chest.

  “They don’t make boys like you in Boston anymore,” she said wistfully.

  “Hm.”

  “What happened with us, Tony? Why don’t we work?”

  His hands, running over my abs, the smell of his neck as I pressed him into the bathroom wall. I didn’t have to be such a dickhead to him. My mouth dried up like sandpaper and my tongue hung heavy in my mouth.

  “I’m sorry, Jenny.”

  “I took this job, took this apartment and when I met you, I thought we had something. I mean… when we made out that first night? I fell in love with you, Tony.”

  “I know.”

  “I get that a guy like you probably has tons of girls beating down his door, but… I didn’t think you’d be the kind to break my heart.”

  Could I get out of my fucking towel to have this conversation? I responded with a grunt that I hoped sounded like an apology.