The Roommate - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Author’s note: All characters are consenting adults (18+). All sexual acts depicted are consensual between the characters.

Chapter 1

We’ve been living together for almost eight months. The apartment was modern and super well located but expensive as fuck so it was a good arrangement for both of us.

His name is Derek. Thirty-three. Works in finance — the kind of guy who wears tailored shirts during the week and expensive sneakers on the weekend. He’s a classic fin-bro: confident, a little arrogant, always talking about markets and deals. Thick dark beard, heavy chest hair, solid gym-built body that he maintains religiously. Broad shoulders, strong arms, the kind of physical presence that makes the apartment feel smaller when he walks through it.

I’m twenty-five, gay, quieter, and very aware of how often I catch myself looking at him longer than I should.

Most nights he comes home late, cracks a beer, and crashes on the couch in just his shorts. Some nights he comes home a little drunk after client dinners or drinks with coworkers.

That particular Friday he came home later than usual. I was already in bed when I heard the front door open and his familiar heavy footsteps. He was louder than normal, which usually meant he’d had more than a few drinks.

A few minutes later I heard him drop onto the couch and the soft clink of a bottle.

I should have stayed in my room.

Instead I got up, pulled on a pair of shorts, and walked out to the living room.

Derek was half-sprawled on the couch in the dark, one arm along the backrest, the other holding a beer. He was shirtless, the way he often was after a long day. The low light from the kitchen caught the thick hair on his chest and stomach. His navy shorts sat low on his hips. He looked tired and loose in a way he only got after drinking.

He glanced over when he heard me.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was lower than usual, a little rough around the edges.

“Something like that.”

I sat on the other end of the couch. The silence stretched. I could smell the beer on him mixed with the faint scent of his expensive Dolce & Gabbana cologne and sweat from a long day.

Derek took another long drink, then set the bottle on the coffee table. He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes for a second.

“Long fucking week,” he muttered. “Clients all day, then drinks after. I’m fried.”

I didn’t answer right away. My eyes drifted lower without permission. The outline of his cock was visible against the soft fabric of his shorts — thick even soft, resting heavily along his left thigh.

He must have felt me looking, because he opened his eyes again and caught me.

For a moment neither of us said anything.

Then Derek let out a short, quiet laugh and didn’t look away.

“You keep staring at it, man.”

My face heated. “Sorry.”

He studied me for a few seconds longer, eyes darker than usual. Then he spoke more carefully.

“You want it?”

The question was direct, but there was no pressure in it. Just a real question.

I could have said no. I could have made a joke and gone back to my room. Instead I nodded once.

“Yeah.”

Derek held my gaze, making sure. “You sure? I’m drunk enough that I won’t remember every detail tomorrow, but I’m not so drunk that I don’t know what I’m asking.”

“I’m sure.”

He nodded slowly, then reached down and pushed his shorts lower until his cock was free. Even only half-hard it was thick and heavy, the head already starting to swollen. He wrapped a fist around it and gave it a slow stroke, still watching my face.

“Come here, then.”

I moved closer on the couch. He spread his knees wider to make space. I got on my knees between them on the floor and took him into my hand first, feeling the weight of him, the heat, the way it thickened under my fingers.

When I leaned in and closed my mouth around the head, Derek let out a low, rough breath.

“Fuck… okay. That’s good.”

I took him deeper slowly, letting my tongue work along the underside. He was clean, with that faint taste of skin and salt. His hand came down and rested on the back of my head — not pushing, just resting there, heavy and warm. I started sucking him properly, long wet strokes, taking more each time until the thick head was pressing into my throat.

Derek’s breathing changed. His fingers tightened slightly in my hair, but he still didn’t force anything.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You actually know what you’re doing.”

I hollowed my cheeks and pushed further. Spit started running down the shaft. The wet sounds filled the quiet living room. Derek’s hips gave a small, involuntary thrust upward into my mouth, then he caught himself and eased back.

“Sorry,” he said, voice rougher. “Feels really fucking good.”

“It’s okay,” I managed when I pulled off for a second. “You can… you can use my mouth.”

He looked down at me, checking again. When 

I nodded, he guided me back down and started moving with more intent — still controlled, but deeper. Every time I took him all the way he made a low, satisfied sound in his chest. His cock was fully hard now — thick, heavy, stretching my lips, the veins standing out under my tongue.

After a few minutes his control loosened a little more. His hand stayed firm in my hair and he began using my mouth with short, deep strokes that pushed into my throat. I gagged around him. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. He immediately eased up.

“Too much?”

I shook my head and pushed myself back down, taking him deep again. He exhaled hard and kept going, watching me carefully even as his breathing got heavier.

“Fuck, look at you,” he said, voice low. “On your knees for your straight roommate. Taking that cock like you want it.”

I moaned around him. My own cock was painfully hard inside my shorts, completely ignored.

Derek’s thrusts stayed deep but never turned rough enough to truly hurt. The wet, filthy sound of him moving in my throat filled the room. Spit ran down my chin and onto his balls. I kept my hands on his thick, hairy thighs and took everything he gave me.

“I’m getting close,” he warned, breathing harder. “You still okay with me finishing in your mouth?”

I answered by pushing myself further down and holding there.

Derek’s grip tightened. His hips jerked upward and he came with a deep, guttural groan, flooding my mouth with thick, hot pulses. I swallowed as fast as I could, throat working around him. He kept one hand on my head but didn’t force me to stay longer than I wanted. When the last pulses faded he loosened his hold immediately.

I pulled off slowly, breathing hard, lips swollen and shiny.

“You good?” he asked, voice still rough.

“Yeah.”

He let out a long breath and leaned his head back against the couch, cock slowly softening against his thigh. For a moment the only sound was both of us trying to catch our breath.

Then he looked down at me again, eyes a little clearer now.

“That stays between us,” he said quietly. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

He reached out and gave my shoulder a rough, almost awkward squeeze.

“Go to bed, man. And… thanks.”

I stood up on slightly unsteady legs. My own cock was still aching, but I didn’t touch it. I just nodded once and walked back to my room, the taste of him still thick on my tongue.

Behind me I heard Derek let out another long breath and the soft sound of him pulling his shorts back up.

I closed my bedroom door, leaned against it, and closed my eyes.

I already knew it wasn’t going to be the last time.And next time, I was pretty sure he’d be sober.