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My Hung, Straight Roommate Freshman Year

Chapter 2: Hallmates Circlejerk

The next morning Will was up before me, and by the time I got my eyes open he already had his gym bag on his shoulder and a protein shake in his hand, swirling it with his wrist while he looked for his other shoe.

“You want anything from the dining hall later?” he asked. “I’ll be down there around noon.”

“Uh. The chicken thing.”

“The chicken thing,” he repeated. “Got it.”

And that was it. He found the shoe under his desk, sat on the edge of his bed to pull it on, and left without looking at me twice. I just watched his muscular body disappear, remembering what I had done to it the night before, and felt a little lingering strangeness in the pit of my stomach. I wanted more with him, but I had no idea what was going through his mind. He hadn't said a word about my dick having been inside him the night before. I stared at the ceiling after the door shut. It was like it might as well not have happened.

Over the next week or so, we never talked about it. Neither of us brought it up. I had every opportunity that whole week, but I never took it. I think I preferred being in limbo to confirming that it was something he regretted. As long as we never set it in stone, then it might happen again, or go further. We were both extremely normal about it, and I got sort of skilled at pretending like it wasn't on my mind. 

The not talking about it was also sort of erotic in its own way. Every time I saw a flash of bare skin from his dick or ass in the corner of my eye, it lit a fire in me even more than it had before. 

And Will seemed to react in his own way, as he went on sort of a sexual binge with several girls. He had the economics girl over again the night after it happened, then a girl from his floor meeting he’d been texting came over the next afternoon, and less than an hour after she left, another girl named Corinne, someone from the gym who I had never actually seen, only heard about, came over to fuck him. Throughout each of these sexcapades, I played my part and either pretended not to see them or left and gave them some space. 

After Corinne left, he read me her texts out loud from his bed with the lamp on.

“What are you up to tonight,” he read. “And she added an eggplant emoji. Dude she wanted me so bad.”

I felt like he was playing some sort of mind game with me, taunting me with his sexual prowess, somehow reminding me that he was a ladies' man.

“You're gonna have fun with her I bet,” I said. 

“I already did.” He put the phone on his chest. “Can you be gone Thursday, from like nine?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the best.”

I was gone Thursday, from nine. I was gone a lot of nights after that too, and I got to know the third floor lounge and its one working outlet pretty well. He still never once brought up what we did together. He teased me about other stuff, sure, how I never left any hair in the shower drain, implying that I was a little boy, my inability to throw a football. He never went near the actual topic of us fucking.

Then one afternoon, I was lying face down on my bed, reading a textbook, when he grabbed his backpack off the floor on his way to class and spanked me in the ass, just like he used to.

I flinched and smiled at him. He headed for the door, and said over his shoulder, “I owe you one, by the way. You know what I mean.”

I did know what he meant, but the door shut before I could ask him to clarify what he meant.

····[]····

A couple days later, after more of the same from Will, I got locked out after heading to the shower, having left my keys in the room. Will was at class or something. I stood in the hall for a minute, dripping a little, my towel wrapped around my waist and nothing I could do. 

And then I heard a Mario Kart menu chime through the open door of room 304.

Nick and Derek were shirtless when I stepped into their doorway. They had nearly the same body, which I guess is what happens when two guys swim competitively all through high school. Lean, long arms, flat stomachs, their shoulders a bit wider than the rest of them. Both of them looked young for college, smooth-faced, and I doubted either one could grow a real beard yet, same as me. 

Derek was maybe five-ten and Nick had a couple inches on him. Derek's hair was dark and flopped over his forehead, and Nick's was light, almost blond. He had told me once in the dining hall that he was a quarter Japanese, though I couldn't really see it. "Same as Keanu Reeves," he said, and went back to his cereal.

Shirtless, the difference between them was the tan. Derek had serious tan lines, his arms and neck still showing the olive complexion from a summer job, I think, and everywhere a t-shirt would have covered him he was pale, almost glowing white, with sharp lines at his biceps. And his nipples were bright pink, matching his big lips. Nick was one even color all over, no lines at all, right down into his waistband, but he had the same color nipples as Derek. I chuckled at myself for noticing. My head was really just spinning as I stood there in a towel, looking for refuge in my exposed state.

Their room was the same as ours, but they had pushed the beds against opposite walls and shoved the desks together in the middle into a kind of command console. A half-empty bottle of Bacardi sat on it next to several Solo cups and a laptop with a dead battery light blinking. Derek was on his back on the near bed with a controller on his stomach and Nick was lying across his legs, sideways, using Derek’s thigh as a pillow and holding his own controller up in front of his face. They honestly looked sort of "cute", like brothers, even though they had only known each other a couple months.

Nobody moved when I took a step into the room, barefoot and in just my towel.

“Yo,” Derek said, not looking up. “You play?”

He didn't say anything about my state of dress.

“I’m locked out of my room.”

“Then hang out with us,” Nick said with a bored tone, his eyes still on the screen.

They handed me the third controller and I sat on the floor with my back against the desk. I raised my knee to get comfortable before realizing I was flashing my dick and balls directly at them. Both of them glanced briefly at my crotch before I wordlessly adjusted my towel to cover myself. And for twenty minutes nothing happened except that I didn't crack the top half of finishing slots in eleven straight races. 

Derek got up at one point to pour orange juice into a cup, and I looked at his body. He was in boxer briefs, his bulge noticeable to me. When he sat back down Nick returned to using him as a pillow, shifting his head onto his stomach. It reminded me of when I was younger, how I used to play around with my older cousin, putting my head on his stomach just like that, making the air pressure build up in my ear. I hadn't been close with another guy like that since, maybe any person at all, even the girls I had been with. 

Nick and Derek didn’t talk about it or laugh about it, and that was what I kept noticing, while I drove off Rainbow Road four times in a row.

It hit me that if I had done some "gay stuff", technically, with my roommate, maybe it was more common than I expected. I had to sniff these two out. 

"Have you guys gotten laid much since being here?"

Neither of them looked up. Derek took a turn wide, his tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth, and said, "A little," in the same flat voice he used to complain about blue shells.

"A couple times," Nick said from his spot against Derek's stomach, eyes still on the screen.

No stories came after that, no bragging, no question fired back at me. Two lean swimmer bodies sharing a room, physically close with each other, and the best they could report on their sex lives was very little information for two guys in college. 

“Your roommate’s the big guy,” Nick said. “Three-ten.”

“Will.”

“He’s a beast,” Derek said. “I saw him doing deadlifts at the gym. Guy’s a fucking Clydesdale.”

“He fucks a lot of girls,” I said. “I'm getting sexiled regularly. Or else just turning my back and pretending I'm not listening.”

“Bro,” Nick said, grinning. “Rough.”

“I’ve heard him through the door when I've passed by,” Derek said.

I was starting to admit to myself that my partial nudity was slightly thrilling, as well as talking about Will and his sex life. I wanted to pry a bit further with these two. They were good looking enough to be getting with girls, but they seemed pretty happy to just sit in here by themselves.

I lost another race and said, kind of at the TV, “Okay, hypothetical. Would you guys ever take a brojob? Like if there were literally zero girls. A full drought of pussy.”

Neither of them answered right away. But Derek missed an item box that he never missed before. Nick’s kart drifted into the wall for a second.

“Define drought,” Derek said.

“I don’t know. Like weeks. And you’re desperate.”

“Huh,” Nick said, and nothing else.

That was not like them. These two had a comeback ready for everything, usually in less than a second.

“I mean, I’d do it,” I said. “If I was desperate enough. Who wouldn’t, honestly. It doesn’t even count if you’re just doing it as a friend.”

“Sure,” Derek said, eyes on the screen. "I mean, a hand feels better if it's from someone else, regardless who it is."

Nobody laughed at me. Nobody said "bro, that’s gay". So I kept going.

“And I don’t know,” I said. “It’s not like guys are gross to look at. Some guys are kind of hot. In their own way. I mean, you can just see it. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Derek looked over at Nick. Nick looked at the TV. The lap music played through one whole loop before anybody said another word. Then, instead of asking me a single question about it, they started doing hypotheticals.

“Okay, but,” Nick said, sitting up, “what would even count. Like if a dude blows you, that’s not gay. That’s him being gay.”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said,” Derek said.

“It’s a mouth. You can close your eyes and it’s just a mouth.”

“So if I sucked your dick right now you’d be straight and I’d be gay.”

“Yup," he replied, "And I’d be grateful, but straight.”

I snickered to myself. Derek pointed at me with the controller.

“I feel like receiving counts as less gay,” I said. “Objectively.”

“Thank you.”

“Objectively,” Derek said. “He said objectively.”

“What about a butt,” Nick said.

“A butt is a butt.”

It kept on like that for a while, everybody talking about gay stuff and what counts, with little internally consistent logic. I was just watching them subtly admit that they did stuff together, but apparently had a lot to talk about regarding exactly what was gay about it. I could roughly decipher a sort of ruleset that was forming between them, with little hints.