Roommate, The (by Xyggurat)


By Xyggurat

Phil stalked in, the look in his eyes brooking no argument. His swollen form was clad in a white polo shirt so tight that it was merely a second skin. I wondered how he had managed to get it on, or if perhaps he had grown into it. He was enormous to my eyes, but my perception of such things was skewed.

"Nice job breaking the bed last night," said Phil. "You won't have to deal with Johnny any more, but Jason is very angry. He thinks you're his. Now, I asked you what you were doing."

"Nothing," I responded. It came out as a rasp.

Phil's smirk told me that it was the wrong answer. "You're just sitting by the bed, waiting for me to get home, aren't you? I knew you'd come around, Dane." The thought pleased him. The bulge in his too-tight jeans swelled up, and I could hear the denim creak.

Seized with inspiration, I stared at the floor. Mumbling, I encouraged his line of thought. "I was about to go and look for you. I tried to get some sleep, but I kept dreaming of you and thinking about your body, and your—"

"—my dick?" he asked. Phil was still standing in the open doorway, not caring if anyone heard him or witnessed him stroking that prodigious bulge. I could see its head creeping up along his abs and toward his pectorals. It forced his shirt away from his abs, so that I could no longer see each individual brick of his eight-pack.

"I want it so bad, and I know you want mine." I hoped that the revulsion I felt wasn't coming through.

He chuckled throatily. "You're such a little faggot. I'm going to take care of something, and then I'm going to give you what you want." With a sick smile, he explained, "I think I want to become the big man on campus today."

I had to know something. "Phil, what happened to Johnny?"

Phil's eyes flashed for a moment with jealousy. "I sent him away. Why?"

"Thank you."

Score. Phil's smile deepened, and he winked at me. It was a struggle not to lose the contents of my stomach at all the thoughts a simple wink awakened in me.

As he sauntered off into the hallway, I had to force my eyes away from the v-shaped taper of his back that was formed by his ridged lats and impossibly slender waist. It was more difficult to ignore the perfection of his ass and its twin muscular globes. My diminished member felt like it was pounding harder than my heart. I almost took it into my hands and finished what hormones had started.

Nonetheless, as soon as Phil was gone, I reached for the phone and dialed up Liam's office again. As soon as I heard the receiver pick up, I started talking. "Liam, how good is this news you were talking about?"

"Very. You've got to get up here now. The timing's essential, and it might already be too late. I'll explain when you get here."

My pulse quickened, and I felt myself sweating despite the clamminess permeating my hands and feet. "He's going to be back any second, Liam, and I think he's going to do something drastic."

"Dane, do whatever it takes, just get here. The game's up," Liam assured me.

"Okay, I'll try."

I slammed the phone down and dashed for the door. Maybe I could make it down the hallway before—

The thought was interrupted as I slammed into the concrete wall of Phil's chest. I had felt steel girders that were more yielding. His body was even hotter than usual, as if from recent exertion, and a tear had formed along his right sleeve, revealing more of the coiled muscle and vein of his biceps. My head only came up to the middle of his thick neck.

I felt his left arm bend around my back, smelled the fresh spice of sweat and deodorant rising from the skin beneath his polo shirt. I was acutely aware of the material's roughness, which cast his amazing musculature into even bolder relief. Not a detail of his pectorals, his cockhead, were left out by that cloth. His left arm tensed, and the biceps that burst outward pushed against my spine. He was so big.

"Couldn't wait, could you?" I could feel the fabric of his shirt tighten ominously as he shifted his posture. He was almost unable to contain himself. Phil pushed us into the room, and the door slammed behind us.

"No, I couldn't," I whispered back. I looked up into his face adoringly. He was so far gone into sexual bliss that it seemed he could not sort out the emotions in my eyes. His features softened for me, but they were still rugged: fiery stubble and sharp planes ensured that. He had the face of a jock god, with those piercing blue eyes and the ruddy bronze of his skin. Women and men would have given their lives to touch that perfection, but he wanted me. Both of my arms wrapped around the tautness of his waist; it would have been impossible for me to reach around the wider part of his back.

"Do you want me?" There was a quiet hint of desperation in that voice, something that I had heard in Johnny's, right before he had taken me. Right before he had tried to rebuild himself physically, when his real problems were all internal. Phil, too, could change his body, his attitude... but he would always be a desperate, pathetic little man on the inside. Pity for him almost forestalled me.

But not for long. I drew my leg back.

"Never," I hissed. "You son of a bitch."

Then, I kneed him in the groin as hard as I could. •

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