Chapter Three: Two Boys, One Secret
828 Words
“We were just roommates until the moans I heard through the wall were my name.”
We weren’t supposed to be anything more than roommates.
Jake was my opposite in every way loud, athletic, the kind of guy who wore sweatpants like a uniform and left protein powder everywhere. I was quieter. Neat. Kept to myself.
We weren’t friends exactly. We coexisted. Shared a fridge. Laughed at the same TV shows. Passed each other in towels. But there were moments. Brief, strange silences when the air between us shifted.
Like when I walked in on him in just boxers, his skin still damp from the gym, and his eyes caught mine for a second too long.
Or when he leaned too close during a movie, our thighs almost touching, and I didn’t move away.
The thing is… I’d always liked girls. At least, that’s what I told myself. But sometimes, after lights out, I’d listen.
To him.
His room was next to mine.
And his moans were unmistakable.
Sometimes soft. Sometimes sharp. Always low and rough and f*****g addictive.
Once, I heard him whisper a name into the dark.
My name.
I convinced myself I was imagining it.
Until the night I couldn’t take it anymore.
It was late. I’d had a drink. He’d had more.
We were sitting on the couch, an old action movie playing with the sound low. Jake leaned back, legs spread, sipping a beer. I tried not to look at the way his sweatpants clung to his thighs. I failed.
He caught me staring.
“You good?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I shrugged. “Yeah.”
A long silence. Then he said, “You ever think about stuff you’re not supposed to?”
I glanced over. His jaw was tight. His foot tapped the floor.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “Sometimes.”
His eyes met mine.
“Me too.”
That was all it took.
One second, I was staring at the screen.
The next, his mouth was on mine hungry, desperate, unsure but needing.
It wasn’t graceful. We kissed like we were trying to erase years of denial. Our teeth clashed. Our hands shook. But it didn’t matter. We wanted.
He pushed me back on the couch, straddling me. His hard length pressed against mine, and f**k, I moaned. I moaned for another man.
“Is this okay?” he asked, breathless.
“Don’t stop,” I begged.
Our shirts came off fast. He kissed down my neck, biting lightly, dragging his tongue over my collarbone like he owned it. His hands explored shoulders, abs, waistband.
Then he paused.
“You ever done this?”
I shook my head. “No.”
He grinned. “I’ll be gentle.”
He wasn’t.
He pulled down my sweats, mouth following the trail. When he finally took me into his mouth, I thought I’d die. His lips were soft, tongue wicked, and eyes locked on mine.
I gripped the couch, barely able to breathe.
“f**k, Jake!”
He kept going. Took me deeper. Sucked harder. His hands pinned my hips down when I tried to buck.
I came embarrassingly fast.
But he didn’t stop.
He swallowed every drop, then licked his lips like it was nothing.
I stared at him, stunned. “You’ve… done that before?”
He just smirked. “You’re not the only one with secrets.”
My hands found his waistband, tugged it down. He was already hard, thick and aching.
“Your turn,” I said.
I kissed him, slow and deep, tasting myself on his tongue. My fingers wrapped around him, and he gasped.
I stroked him, slow at first, then faster as his hips started to thrust into my hand. He moaned into my mouth, every sound fueling the fire.
“f**k,” he breathed, biting my lip. “I’m close.”
I dropped to my knees.
He froze. “You sure?”
“I want to taste you.”
He watched as I took him into my mouth, inch by inch, guided by instinct and need.
He was salty and warm. I sucked him deep, cheeks hollowed, tongue teasing the underside.
“Jesus,” he groaned, hand fisting in my hair. “You’re too good at that.”
I smiled around his c**k.
He hit the back of my throat and cursed.
It didn’t take long. His moans got louder. His hips started jerking.
“f**k, I’m gonna...”
His whole body tensed.
I swallowed him down, lips sealed around his release.
We both sat there for a moment after, breathless, staring.
That night, we slept in the same bed.
He curled behind me, his hand on my chest.
He didn’t say anything until the lights were off.
“I wasn’t dreaming the other night,” he said quietly. “I said your name on purpose.”
I smiled into the pillow.
“I know,” I whispered. “Say it again.”
- Writer
