Page 30 of Oblivious Roommate

I shiver when Cass’s eyes focus, as if he were browsing through every single guy he ever hooked up with, but then his phone pings, and he pulls it out. My heartbeat quickens as his tanned face flushes at the sight of whatever he received. “It’s him!”

Aaron gives me that I-told-you-so look, but my mind is blank.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Chapter 11

The troll turned out to be a straight dude assuming the flyers were distributed by a girl and looking for an easy way into her pants. Just like the next five trolls.

Something neither I nor Cass have taken into consideration.

I couldn’t be happier, but it took Cass three days to decide that the whole idea was stupid to begin with and gather as many posters as he could.

But that didn’t stop new messages from coming, and at this point I feel sorry for him. It’s a shame he’s upset by this in the first place, but also annoying that I feel like I’m competing with a man who doesn’t exist when there’s a perfectly awful adversary in the form of Logan.

In hope of cheering up Cassian, I bought two slices of cake from the Rainbow and ignored my last class of the day to be home early. Who needs geospatial analysis anyway?

The apartment welcomes me with loud music, and I look around as I place the takeout box on the kitchen counter. It’s already getting dark outside, but the light is on in Cass’s open room and casts a bright spot on the floor in our hallway. That’s where the music is coming from too, and I smile, ready to surprise him.

I toe off my sneakers to be quieter, but as I approach, the light reflects off a mirror in the corridor and distracts me for a moment.

What I see next, will distract me forever.

I freeze, unable to move a single muscle at the sight reflected to me.

Cass is sitting in his swivel chair, illuminated by the sharp light of the lamp on his desk. He’s leaning back and I see everything. His jeans are open and lowered, his T-shirt is pulled up enough for me to see his navel. My gaze follows the dark hair trailing down from it, to the erect cock in his hand.

I might go to hell for this, but when I hear a little grunt, I know I’ll keep watching.

He’s a work of art at any time, even with a mouth full of foam when he’s washing his teeth, but seeing him this unguarded, with closed eyes and a deep flush on his olive skin has my hands trembling.

I’ve never seen him with a hard-on. Well, not unclothed anyway, and his cock looks better than any I’ve seen in porn. It has a gentle curve to it, and while it’s not massive, it still appears substantial between Cass’s fingers.

The world starts spinning when my Cass, my best friend, licks his thumb and then swirls it over the bulbous head. His hips push forward, his frown deepens, and he opens his mouth ever-so-slightly as pleasure takes the reins.

I shouldn’t be watching, I really shouldn’t, but here I am, staring at his reflection, hypnotized. It’s like seeing a new side of him, a sexual aspect that I’ve never been allowed to witness.

Up till now I considered him the most handsome man on the planet, craved to kiss him, and had a vague notion of wanting to rock against him until I come. That vision now seems so innocent in comparison to the filth flooding my brain.

I want to go in there, kneel between his spread legs and suck his cock until its salty juices fill my mouth. Giving head has been a theoretical concept I was toying with in my head. But would I really want to do it? How do I feel about it? What if I ended up disliking it?

When I stare at Cassian’s cock as he strokes it, I’m certain I would like it. I would very much like it in my mouth right now.

My own dick hardens, as if the reflection in the mirror caused a chain reaction. Before I know what’s what, my pants are uncomfortable, and my head is clouded with smoke. I squeeze myself through denim to relieve some of the tension, but the touch goes straight to my head when Cass pushes his hand under his T-shirt and strokes his chest.

His hand gets to work, stroking the hard dick faster.

I’m not even touching him, and I’m already out-of-my-mind horny.

The picture he makes is more exciting than anything my imagination could have come up with.

He leans back with a heavier grunt, and I slide my hand into my pants. I want to jerk off at the same time as he strokes that perfect dick. I want our pace to match. I want to come at the same time. I want to come with him.

My brain becomes fuzzy and it’s almost like I’m standing between his legs and rubbing my dick right in front of him. Would he like that? Would he lick my cock? Would he let me blow my load on that sexy stomach of his? And if I spilled a bit on his T-shirt, would he wear it all day?