Helping my roommate blow off some steam

(All characters over 18)

When the door swung open and Luke came in with that grin on his face he always wore, I was sitting up in my bed, having just shaken the last groggy remnants of sleep out of my head. It was cold outside, but a stuck radiator had me peeling my clothes off as I slept and I found myself sitting at the edge of my bed, on my phone, in my underwear.

Luke removed the dry-fit quarter-zip he always wore to exercise in the fall, and the sweat that visibly soaked the short sleeved t-shirt underneath, even in the cold air outside, coupled with the fact that his gym bag lay untouched at the foot of his own bed, reminded me that it was Monday, when he’d go on one of his insane five-mile runs before our 10am class.

By now I knew I was decent looking, and had a body that most would envy, but through it all I never learned to love training. For Luke, however, this came effortlessly. The textbook example of someone who won the genetic lottery, he had the frame and magnetic personality of someone who had copious amounts of dopamine shot into his blood during any form of exercise, running, or his countless sports, in which he had an innate talent and was beaten by few - something I was constantly reminded of when he would goad and tease me after any game I was tricked into playing with him.

It was another dopamine hit he was looking for, when he sidled up to me and placed his hands on my bare shoulders, kneading the lean muscles that I’d been working hard recently. Luke was my friend, and as far as I knew, straight as they came, but things unfolded oddly one cold night as the seasons turned.

He went to the next step in the routine we discovered by accident that night: Pushing me gently down onto my back. I watched as he lazily stripped and tossed his clothes onto his own bed, revealing the muscles he carelessly built while having fun. As he opened my legs up and positioned his toned, wide chest in between my knees, I was reminded of what I recently realized was my purpose in life: To be the temporary solution he needed - to offer him the relief he needed every now and then.

He did look relieved as he stroked himself up idly with lube, unapologetically comfortable and familiar with his own manhood, and pushed himself in, parting me open with his straight, uncurved, six-inch rod. By now we’d figured the right angle and pressure that helped him pop in and slide in, till his pelvis pressed up into me with a deep sigh.

“Good hole,” I could hear him think, as he looked over me vacantly, his mouth hung open slightly, allowing himself to tickle that part of his brain that would flood him with the dopamine he craved. He slowed down, and although this was for his own pleasure, it momentarily allowed me to intensely feel the sensation of him laying his hungry pipe, in and out. He was intact, and I could imagine how he felt, as I did, as all intact boys do, when the exposed head glides along something wet, warm and tight, quenching his thirst each time he pushed his straight dick all the way in.

I clenched my teeth slightly, bracing myself against him as he found the rhythm he liked, guided by the same instinct that gave him his amazing reflexes. Then, he surprised me:

“You can moan if you want to.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “It won’t bother me.” He knew I wouldn’t get overly loud, because he knew me well.

Having given me that, Luke’s head hung back down again, and the solid ridges of the huge shoulderblades behind his neck came back into view. I watched as he diligently got back to the task at hand. I still hesitated, until he started pumping in earnest, knocking some quiet moans out of me. Nothing ever really bothered him, he just quietly took what he knew was his. Yet even at this most selfish moment of enjoying what he was entitled to, his manner was still conscientious, almost thoughtful.

One of the few vulnerabilities that Luke decided he could show me was that it never took long for him to do what he needed to do. I watched as he grunted freely, never hesitating to reveal the true primal urges that guided him to me in the first place, the ones that impelled him to claim his place as the natural leader of our little room, which was so tiny we could almost reach both walls simply by holding our arms up. He pulled out quickly, leaving no mess, and tousled my hair roughly to leave no doubt that no cuddling was coming.

I watched Luke, humming to himself, throwing his towel gracefully over his muscled shoulder before stepping into the shower. We had done all our talking a long time ago, soon after that awkward first night. Having learned what I learned then, I was thankful just to keep tiding him over, day by day, until one day, he would find that more correct person who could give him everything I did, but who also could be accepted by the family that he loved more than anything else in the world.