My Life in Hollywood C51 First Night Under the Same Roof (Mild R-18) (Patreon)

The first night living under the same roof as Marcus, Arya couldn't stop the butterflies rioting in her stomach. Her imagination ran wild—cooking breakfast together while he stood behind her at the stove, his hands finding her hips, learning the small details of his routine, falling into the kind of rhythm that couples had. The kind where clothes became optional and boundaries blurred.

Sitting on her bed with the window cracked open, crickets chirping outside in the warm night, she felt heat creep up her neck and settle low in her belly. She pressed her palms against her flushed cheeks.

"Arya, you made a promise to your sister. Don't you dare break it." She reminded herself sternly. But God, the temptation of living here—sleeping just down the hall from the guy she'd been dreaming about, fantasizing about...

Maybe Diana had the right to be worried. But this was her life, wasn't it?

Knock knock.

The sound yanked her out of her thoughts. She stood, heart jumping, already knowing who it was.

"Y-yes?" She opened the door.

Marcus stood there in his usual home clothes—faded t-shirt that clung across his chest and shoulders, gym shorts riding low enough on his hips to show the cut of his lower abs.

Not that she could judge. She was barely wearing anything—an oversized sleep shirt that had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the curve of her neck and collarbone.

The hem barely reached mid-thigh, leaving her legs completely bare. And she'd taken her bra off after moving boxes all day, so her breasts hung free underneath the thin cotton, nipples visible as small points pressing against the fabric.

Marcus's eyes dropped immediately. Not to her face—to her tits first, the outline of them clear as day through that damn shirt, then down to her legs. Smooth, pale thighs that didn't quit, the kind that made a man think about what it'd feel like to have them wrapped around his waist.

His gaze traveled up slowly—lingering on the exposed shoulder, the swell of her breasts, the way the shirt clung to her body—before he finally dragged his eyes back to hers. His jaw was tight, and she could see him visibly compose himself.

"I made dinner," he said, voice rougher than usual. "It's your first night here, so I figured we'd do it right. Ordered pizza and cola too. We can just hang out."

Arya felt the way he was looking at her—like he was trying really hard not to look but failing. It sent a thrill through her body that settled between her legs.

"You didn't need to go to all that trouble," she said softly.

"It's only right. Because later on, you'll be cooking for me." Marcus grinned, though his eyes kept drifting down despite himself.

But Arya took it seriously. "O-okay."

Marcus blinked, clearly not expecting that. He cleared his throat and adjusted his stance—probably trying to hide the fact that his dick was already responding to the sight of her half-dressed in a doorway. "Anyway, I invited Ryan. He'll be here soon. Thought we could all watch that K-drama that just dropped on Netflicks."

"Alright." Arya smiled, watching his struggle with barely concealed satisfaction. "I'll just change into something more appropriate."

Marcus paused. For a second she thought he might tell her not to bother, that she looked fine as is. But he just nodded. "Cool. I'll be downstairs."

He left, and Arya stood there for a moment, heart racing, thighs pressed together.

The truth was, she didn't mind him seeing her like this. Hell, part of her had opened the door knowing exactly what he'd see. But Ryan being around changed things. She wasn't about to give her friend a show.

She changed into something more decent—a fitted tank top that still hugged her curves, showing off the shape of her breasts without being obscene, and shorts that sat low on her hips—then headed downstairs.

Shortly after, Ryan showed up with a cake. Frosting letters spelled out: Congrats on your new "roommate" Arya!

The quotation marks around "roommate" made it crystal clear what he was implying.

Arya groaned. "You're such an ass."

"Love you too." Ryan grinned wide, and Marcus laughed right along with him.

They moved into the living room, Marcus grabbing plates while Arya brought out the pizza boxes. Ryan set the cake down on the coffee table with a theatrical flourish, then dropped onto the couch like he owned the place.

"Man, this setup's not bad," Ryan said, looking around. "You got the whole bachelor pad thing going."

"It's a rental," Marcus said, tossing him a plate. "But yeah, it works."

Arya settled onto the couch, leaving space between herself and Ryan but close enough to Marcus on the other side. She grabbed a slice of pizza and took a bite, suddenly realizing how hungry she was after moving boxes all day.

"So what are we watching?" Ryan asked, already pulling the laptop closer. "I wanted to check out that new Dinsley movie. Heard it crushed at the box office."

"What about a romantic movie?" Arya suggested.

"Ugh, romance! I know I'm gonna be the third wheel here." Ryan grumbled.

"Shut up, man." Marcus laughed. "Actually, that K-drama I licensed just dropped with an English dub. I Got Love from the Star. How about we give it a shot?"

"Alright. I guess it doesn't hurt to try," Ryan sighed.

Marcus set up the laptop on the table and pulled up the show, but Ryan immediately frowned. "Man, we're really gonna watch on that tiny-ass screen? You got an HDMI cable we can hook up to the TV?"

"HDMI?" Marcus paused. "I think the TV should have one..."

He felt like an idiot. There'd been an HDMI option this whole time, and he'd been watching everything hunched over his laptop like a caveman.

The house came furnished with a TV and the cable was already there. He hooked it up, and they settled onto the couch together.

The K-drama pulled them in fast. Easy plot, good pacing. Ryan got absorbed despite himself, and Arya—being a sucker for romance—loved it.

Marcus noticed her getting closer. Subtle at first—an inch here, a shift there—until her thigh was pressed firmly against his, the warmth of her body bleeding through the thin fabric of her shorts.

He didn't mind. Actually, the closeness felt right.

Watching a show with friends, eating pizza, drinking coke—it just hit different. No pressure, no business stress, just vibing.

'Watching on the TV really is better than hunching over a laptop,' Marcus thought.

His mind wandered to the quest. How the hell was he supposed to get Netflicks onto every TV in America? A streaming stick made the most sense—small, cheap, plug it into any TV and boom, instant Netflicks. He had access to the code through the Quest Search Engine, all the knowledge from his previous life sitting right there waiting. But turning software into actual hardware? That was a different animal entirely.

'I need to research TV stick technology. Patents, manufacturing costs, what's even possible right now.'

But that was tomorrow's problem.

He let it go and sank back into the show, genuinely absorbed in the cheesy romance unfolding on screen.

That's when he realized his situation had changed.

His arm was wrapped around Arya's shoulders—he didn't even remember putting it there. And she'd melted into him completely, her body pressed flush against his side, head resting on his chest, one hand draped casually across his stomach.

The soft weight of her breast was impossible to ignore. It pressed against his ribs through the thin fabric of her tank top, warm and full, shifting slightly every time she breathed. He could feel everything—the curve of it, the give of it, even the faint outline of her nipple against his side.

Heat coiled low in his gut. His pulse kicked up.

She shifted to get more comfortable, and the movement made her tit push harder against him. Her thigh slid higher across his lap.

'Jesus Christ.'

He forced himself to keep breathing normally. Forced himself not to think about how easy it would be to slide his hand down from her shoulder, trace the curve of her waist, palm that breast—

Ryan was still glued to the screen, completely oblivious.

Arya tilted her head up slightly, still watching the TV, but the angle brought her face closer to his neck. Her breath ghosted warm across his skin, and he felt goosebumps rise despite himself.

This was dangerous territory.

Marcus and Arya sat in silence, eyes reflecting the glow of the TV screen—but neither of them was actually watching anymore. They were too busy feeling each other. The rise and fall of their breathing. The heat radiating between their bodies. Hearts hammering so hard they could probably hear each other's pulse.

Marcus had made a promise to Diana. He meant to keep it. But damn—just the touch of this girl, the warmth of her pressed against him, and he was already losing his mind.

Four hours passed. Conversation came and went, laughter faded into comfortable silence. Eventually Ryan's head tipped back against the couch, mouth open slightly, dead asleep. The dark living room and the late hour had done him in.

This was technically a sleepover for Arya's celebration anyway. He was supposed to crash here.

But Marcus could feel that Arya, still clinging to him, was wide awake. And she wasn't just clinging anymore.

Her hand had drifted lower. Fingers brushing against his crotch. Subtle. Testing.

His breath caught.

Then she turned toward him, shifting her whole body. Their faces were suddenly inches apart, close enough that he could count her eyelashes in the dim light from the TV.

On screen, the two leads were kissing. Perfect fucking timing.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. It was obvious what Arya wanted. He could almost taste her breath—warm, sweet, so close it made his head spin.

"I really wanna do it..." Arya whispered, voice barely audible, like a mosquito buzzing near his ear. But she was close enough that he heard every word loud and clear.

He whispered back, playing dumb even though his dick was already straining against his shorts. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean..." Her eyes locked onto his, intention written all over her face. Her fingers traced his bottom lip, intimate and deliberate. "I still can't forget the prom..."

Marcus was rock hard. Despite being a playboy in his previous life, he was a man of his word. He wasn't about to break the promise he'd made to Diana.

But that didn't mean he had to be the one to break it.

Right now, Arya was the one advancing. Which was wild—in his previous life, he'd always been the aggressor. Women responded. They didn't initiate.

This? This was new.

"Did you already forget the promise we made to your sister?" he murmured quietly, making sure Ryan wouldn't stir.

He expected hesitation. Maybe second thoughts. It was a promise, after all. To her own sister.

Instead, her response was swift and decisive.

She closed the distance and pressed her lips against his.

Planted them there. Full contact. Then pressed her whole body into him.

'This girl is fucking bold.'

He wasn't about to be outdone. His tongue invaded her mouth, finding hers, and a battle immediately ensued. She was clumsy—inexperienced—but he guided her through it, showing her the rhythm, the pressure, how to give and take.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted, swinging one leg over until she was straddling him completely. Sitting right on top of his lap.

And she could feel exactly how much he was into this. The hard length of him pressed right between her thighs, separated only by thin layers of fabric. Heat against heat.

"Hmm!" She moaned softly into his mouth. Saliva mixed. Tongues tangled. This wasn't like the quick kiss at Junior Prom. That had been a spark.

This was a goddamn wildfire.

Electric bolts shot through her veins, settling low in her core. She was plunged into pleasure she'd never experienced before—a brand new world opening up beneath her.

They kissed for three full minutes, completely forgetting the TV, forgetting everything except each other.

Finally, reluctantly, they pulled apart. Breathing hard.

Marcus was more than impressed. Even with a previous life full of pleasure and experience, this was something else. Out of this world. And it wasn't because Arya was some expert—she wasn't. It was the thought. The vibe. The atmosphere. The raw, unfiltered wanting.

His hands found her waist, pulling her closer. Instinctively, he squeezed her ass—both cheeks, fingers digging into the soft flesh, massaging. "You're so fucking incredible. I never imagined you'd be like this."

Arya smiled, cheeks flushed, adding to her charm. But she was burning up now, heat pooling between her legs where she sat pressed against him. "Marcus... I lo-love you..." The words came out nervous, shaky.

Marcus froze. Stunned. By her beautiful face. By her actions. By those words.

Then reality snapped back. "No, no. I made a promise to your sister." He almost forgot. He was supposed to be the older, wiser one here—despite the young body.

Arya's brows furrowed. She pouted. Then, instead of backing down, she became even bolder.

She kissed him again. Harder this time.

"Ryan is sleeping right there..." Marcus whispered against her lips.

But Arya didn't listen. She kissed him more eagerly, grinding down slightly against the hardness beneath her, making him groan into her mouth.

His hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts through the thin tank top. She arched into the touch, breath hitching—

Ryan shifted visibly on the other end of the couch.

Arya panicked immediately, scrambling off Marcus's lap and back to her original spot, heart pounding.

Ryan rubbed his eyes, blinking at the TV, then glancing over at them. "Hm? Didn't realize I fell asleep. What episode are we on?"

Marcus answered him, voice steady despite the raging hard-on still tenting his shorts. "Just started episode five."

Beside him, Arya was blushing so hard her whole neck had turned red. Only now did the shame come rushing back, hitting her like a freight train.

But underneath it? She didn't regret a damn thing.