All characters in this story are 18+ and all acts are consensual.
It started as a joke.
Swear to God.
We’d been drinking. Not blackout. Just enough for me to feel bold. Loose. Flirty. The kind of drunk where I don’t second-guess the way I look at Daniel.
Daniel.
Tall, sharp-jawed, always wearing sweats that sit low on his hips. My roommate. The guy I’ve been mentally undressing since week two.
We were in the living room. Music low. Lights off except for the TV glow. He was sprawled across the recliner, one leg propped up, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows. His forearms looked carved.
I don’t know what came over me.
He said something cocky—called me a tease, I think—and I just… stepped between his legs and dropped onto his lap.
Like it was funny.
Like I was daring him.
But he didn’t laugh.
He didn’t even smile.
Just looked up at me, lips parted, eyes dark, hands still.
Then slowly—slowly—his hands came up. Gripped my hips. Firm.
And he said, “Ride it, then.”
I froze.
It wasn’t playful.
Wasn’t a joke.
His voice dropped an octave lower than I’d ever heard it. Gravelly. Daring. Dangerous.
“Daniel—” I tried to say, but then I felt it.
Him.
Thick. Hard. Pressing up beneath me.
Right under my ass.
I stiffened. Tried to shift. His grip tightened.
“You feel that?” he said, breath hot on my jaw. “That’s you.”
My heart was pounding. My skin went electric. I could barely breathe.
I laughed—nervous, shaky. “Bro… are you getting hard from this?”
He didn’t answer.
Just rocked his hips up. Just enough for me to really feel it.
I gasped. Didn’t mean to. Just did.
He exhaled sharply, jaw clenched. “Fuck, Troy.”
I sat there, stunned. Still perched on his lap, body going hot and tight all over.
My hands found his shoulders for balance. He was so solid under me. So still, but coiled, like he was barely holding back.
“You don’t wanna get up,” he said, voice all low and ruined.
“Why not?”
He leaned in. “Because if you move…”
His hands dragged down to my thighs.
“…I’m gonna lose it.”
I swallowed hard. Shifted a little—just to test him.
His cock twitched under me. Thicker now. Straining up.
He hissed. “Troy.”
“Shit,” I whispered.
One of his hands slipped under my hoodie. Bare skin to bare skin. Fingers trailing up my spine.
I leaned closer without thinking. My nose brushed his. Our mouths so close.
“You want this?” he asked. Not soft. Not sweet. Just hungry.
I nodded.
That’s when he kissed me.
Rough. Desperate. Like he’d been waiting forever.
His tongue licked into my mouth like he owned it. His hands were everywhere—palming my back, tugging my hips forward, making me grind down on him.
I moaned. Couldn’t help it.
His cock was hot and thick against me, and fuck, I could feel everything through the thin cotton of my sweats.
“I'm hard,” he muttered into my mouth.
“Yeah, I can feel it” I breathed.
“You want to fix that?”
I pulled back, eyes wild. “What—like…”
He licked his lips. “Yeah, suck me off.”
I blinked.
His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
Hot. Brutal. Honest.
He wasn’t playing.
I looked at him—flushed, lips red from kissing me, chest rising fast. His cock still pressing hard up against me, thick and angry beneath my thighs.
“Are you serious?” I asked, but my voice came out wrecked. Breathless.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m fucking around?”
His fingers dug into my thighs, pulling me closer, grinding me down on him like I was made to sit there.
“You sat on my lap like it was a game,” he said, mouth brushing mine. “Now I’m playing too.”
I should’ve been embarrassed. I should’ve laughed it off.
But my mouth was dry.
My cock was hard.
“Get on your knees,” he said, voice rough.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
He cupped my jaw. Firm. “Troy.”
I stared at him. Lips parted. Chest heaving.
Then I nodded.
Climbed off his lap. Dropped to the carpet in front of him.
My knees hit the floor, and he let out the filthiest breath I’d ever heard from a guy.
His legs spread wider.
He pushed his sweats down just enough to free himself. And holy shit.
Thick. Long. Red at the tip. Already leaking.
He wrapped a hand around it. Stroked once. Twice. Just slow enough to make me stare.
“Still want it?” he asked.
I swallowed. Hard.
Then leaned in, mouth open, breath hot over the head of his cock.
His hand tangled in my hair—tugged, just a little.
“Look at me.”
I glanced up.
His jaw was tight. His chest was rising hard.
“I’ve thought about this,” he said, voice hoarse. “You on your knees. Your mouth on me.”
I wet my lips. “Then take it.”
His eyes darkened.
His hand guided me closer. I opened my mouth—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The front door.
My whole body jerked.
We both froze.
Daniel’s hand was still on my head. His cock was inches from my tongue. My mouth was still open.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
A pause. Then a voice from outside:
“Yo, Daniel? You home?”
It was the neighbor.
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