Roommate Worship - Part 12 (Patreon)

Everyone in this story is 18+

I barely had time to shut the bathroom door before Wes grabbed me. One hand on my chest, pushing me back against the counter, his mouth already on mine. He kissed me like we had hours, tongue deep, his other hand shoving at my sweats.

“Wes,” I mumbled, trying not to knock the toothbrush holder over. “My parents—”

“They’ll wait,” he said, lips trailing down my neck. His voice was laced with mischief. “I’m so hard for you. Can’t hide it from me.”

I wanted to argue, but his hand slid under my waistband, wrapping around my hard-on, and my brain fizzled out. I groaned into his shoulder, hips jerking.

“God, you’re easy,” he whispered, pumping me slow. “You want me to fuck you right here, don’t you? Bent over the counter while your mom sets the table downstairs?”

I did. Fuck, I did. I clutched at his shoulders, nodding before I could think. “Please.”

He grinned like the devil himself. “Thought so.”

He spun me, bent me over the counter, and I braced for him. Jeans shoved down, ass bared, his chest heavy against my back. I felt the cool drag of lube, his fingers pressing inside me, slick and slow. I whimpered, pushing back, needing more.

“That’s it,” Wes cooed, finger curling deep. “Open up for me. You’re always so ready, Totta.”

Two fingers. Then three. Stretching, teasing, making me sweat. My cock slapped against the counter, leaking.

“Wes—please—just fuck me.”

“Yeah?” He kissed my shoulder, grinning against my skin. “That what you want? My cock splitting you open, filling you up?”

“Yes!” I gasped. “God, yes.”

“Good.” He pulled his fingers out. I heard the wet sound of lube again. Felt something press against me. Big. Smooth. I shoved back eagerly—until the shape was wrong.

“Wes—” I started, but too late.

Something  slid in, slick and relentless, stretching me wide until it popped into place. My knees buckled. I slapped a hand against the mirror to stay upright.

“Wh—what—”

Wes kissed the back of my neck, smug as hell. “Not what you expected?”

I groaned, mortified, clenching around the intrusion. “You—”

He tugged my sweats back up for me, patting my ass. “If you want to fuck tonight, don’t take the plug out. See you at dinner, Totta.”

And just like that, he was gone. Leaving me hunched over the counter, flushed, stuffed, and absolutely wrecked.

◆◆◆

Dinner was of course agony.

Mom had made pot roast. Dad had poured himself a beer. While Wes was absolutely enjoying himself.

And me? I sat at the table with Wes’s buttplug inside me, trying not to shake every time I shifted in my chair.

Wes looked innocent. Relaxed. Piled his plate with mashed potatoes like nothing was happening. Then his hand brushed mine under the table.

I jerked, nearly dropping my fork.

“You okay, Totta?” Dad asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” I squeaked. “Totally fine.”

“Runs hot,” Wes said smoothly, stealing a roll. “Sweats a lot.”

Mom frowned at me. “You are flushed. Do you have a fever?”

“He’s fine,” Wes said. “Aren’t you, Totta?”

His hand slid higher, palm pressing against my thigh. I swallowed hard, trying not to moan while Mom went on about the neighbor’s new puppy.

“Wes—” I hissed under my breath.

He leaned close, voice low and smug. “Every time you clench, it twitches. Bet you’re dripping, huh?”

I almost choked on my water. Dad looked up again. “You sure you’re alright, son?”

“Wrong pipe,” I coughed, glaring at Wes. He just chewed calmly, eyes glittering with wicked amusement.

By dessert, I was literally dying. Wes kept brushing my hand, tugging at my waistband under the table, whispering filth in my ear while Mom served pie.

I wanted to kill him. I wanted to beg him. I wanted both at once.

◆◆◆

The second we got upstairs, I shoved him against the door. “It’s coming out.”

He grinned, catching my wrists easily. “Is it?”

“Yes—” I struggled, but he pinned me to the bed like it was nothing. His weight heavy, his eyes burning.

“You kept it in,” he said, almost proud. “Good boy.”

“Wes, please, just—”

He pressed his forehead to mine, grinning wider. “You only get my dick when you beg for it. On your knees. Say you need me.”

Heat slammed through me. The toy pulsed inside me with every twitch. My throat worked, desperate words clawing up but sticking. And God help me — I knew he was right, I needed him.

Of I cracked, how could I not?

Flat on my back, legs open, plug stretching me in that maddening way, I blurted the words Wes had been waiting hours to hear. “Please. Please, I can’t take it anymore—just fuck me already.”

He sat at the foot of the bed, leaning back on his elbows like a smug king. Shirt still on. Hair a wreck from me tugging at it earlier. His grin spread slow, infuriating.

“There it is,” he said. “Totta finally begging.”

My face burned. I tried to glare, but I was panting, my body betraying me.

“Say it better.” His voice was low, coaxing, mean. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need you,” I gasped. “Inside me. Not this—” I clawed at the waistband of my sweats, desperate.

He chuckled, grabbed my wrists, and pinned them to the mattress like it was nothing. “Patience.”

Then his hand slid down, hooking into my waistband. He dragged my sweats and briefs off in one smooth move, leaving me bare and twitching. My dick slapped against my stomach, my dick leaking heavy.

“Look at you,” Wes said, tugging my thighs wider. “Flushed, dripping, stuffed full of my little toy.” He curled his fingers around the base of the plug and gave it a slow twist.

I gasped, hips jerking.

He grinned. “Sensitive. You kept it in all through dinner, huh? Sat across from your parents with this lodged inside you. My good boy.”

I whimpered. The praise hit harder than the teasing.

“Time to trade up.” He tugged slow, drawing it out. The toy stretched me, inch by inch, until it slid free with a wet pop. My whole body jolted, suddenly empty, clenching around nothing.

I covered my face. “God, you’re evil.”

“Evil?” He dropped the toy on the nightstand with a clatter, then crawled up between my legs. His mouth brushed my thigh. “I’m about to worship you.”

My hands dropped from my face. “What?”

He smirked, kissing higher, sucking a mark into the inside of my thigh. “You passed the test. Now you get me.”

And then his mouth was on me.

I’d pictured Wes giving head exactly zero times in my life. He always acted like it was beneath him. But now? He swallowed me down in one go, eyes locking on mine, like he was proving a point.

My hips bucked. “Wes—”

He pulled off with a slick sound, lips shiny. “Relax. Let me taste you.”

Then he went back down wrapping his mouth around my cock. Slow this time, then he dragged his tongue along the underside, sucking at the head until my legs shook. His hand pressed my stomach down when I tried to arch.

“Stay,” he ordered, muffled around me.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The wet heat of his mouth, the scrape of teeth just enough to make me yelp, the way his tongue curled and lapped—

“F-fuck—”

He hummed, vibrations shooting straight through me. He pulled back, stroking me with his hand, smirking up at me. “Never thought you’d taste this good, Totta. Sweet and salty. Addictive.”

“Wes, I—” My throat closed around the words. I was so close already.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, squeezing the base until I yelped. “Not yet.”

I clawed at the sheets. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“Nah,” he said, spreading lube across his cock with practiced strokes. “Trying to ruin you.”

He shoved my knees to my chest, pressing the head against me. Just claiming. I barely had time to brace before he pushed forward, thick and relentless, filling me in one long stroke until I was gasping into his shoulder.

“Jesus,” I rasped.

“Not Jesus,” Wes grinned, pulling almost out, then slamming back in. The bed frame groaned. “Just me.”

He fucked me like he had something to prove. Hard, fast, deep, every thrust driving me higher. My dick slapped wetly against my stomach, leaking helplessly.

“Been waiting to split you open all day,” he panted. “Dreamed about this when you were stuffing your face with waffles.”

“Wes!” I buried my face in the pillow, humiliated and desperate.

He angled his hips, found that spot that made me jerk like a live wire, and hammered it mercilessly. “There it is. Perfect.”

My vision blurred. I gripped his shoulders, nails digging. “Gonna—”

“Do it,” he growled. “Cover yourself, Totta. Paint your stomach while I wreck your ass.”

And I did. Hot streaks across my skin, my body convulsing as he pounded through my orgasm. My hole clenched tight around him, and Wes snarled, thrusting deeper.

“Gonna fill you—fuck—take it—”

I felt it, hot and deep, his hips grinding into me as he groaned against my neck.

I collapsed under him, boneless, ruined.

But he didn’t pull out.

I realized that he was still hard. Thick and unyielding inside me, even after finishing.

“Wes,” I croaked, already wrung out.

“Round two,” he said simply, pulling back and slamming forward again.

I squeaked, clutching his arms. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. You’re mine.” His lips crashed against mine, tongue demanding, hips pistoning. “You’ll take me until I’m satisfied.”

I couldn’t fight him. Couldn’t stop the pleasure ripping through me even as my body begged for rest. He bent me in half, driving deeper, kissing me like he owned my soul.

At some point I was crying, babbling nonsense into his mouth, too overstimulated to think. He stroked me again, rough, and I came a second time, dry and shaking, my whole body quaking beneath him.

He followed, grinding in deep, burying himself as warmth flooded me again. He finally slowed, panting, forehead pressed to mine.

We lay tangled, sweaty, ruined. His arms tightened around me, pulling me against his chest.

I expected another joke. A quip. Something cocky.

Instead, he whispered, “I don’t want a roommate anymore.”

My stomach lurched. “What—”

“You passed,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple. “The boyfriend test. You let me push you. Let me own you. And you still begged for me. That’s not a roommate thing.”

My throat worked. I didn’t know what to say.

“I want a boyfriend,” Wes said simply. “You. No more pretending.”

I stared at him, heart in my throat. He looked serious. Scared, even.

“You’re…serious?” I whispered.

“Dead serious.” He tucked me tighter against him, kissing my hair. “So. You wanna be mine?”

I couldn’t stop the stupid grin breaking across my face. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

He kissed me again. Softer. Lingering.

“Good,” he said. “’Cause you already are.”

And just like that, I was gone for my roommate, I mean boyfriend...