Roommates With Benefits [BL]

I never should have asked him to go sort things out with his family, he only got hurt in the process.

I just stared at him, the words hanging between us like something neither of us knew how to retrieve.

He seemed to realize he had said too much, his gaze drifting away from mine to focus on some spot on the wall, as if he hoped it would make the conversation evaporate.

I swallowed hard. ”That’s not something you’re supposed to say lightly!”

”I know.”

”Then why do you keep doing this?”

”Doing what?”

”Acting like none of it matters at all.”

He was silent, the quiet stretching long enough that I could hear the radiator ticking somewhere in the room.

I softened my tone, trying a calmer approach even though I wanted to wring his neck until he started talking.

”You block me out when your family comes up. You tell me everything is complicated, everything is handled, everything is fine. But then you come home with a bruise. Why can’t you just explain to me everything that’s going on with you and them?”

He looked at me again, and this time, something in his expression cracked open just a little. ”I didn’t want you getting involved in my family’s nonsense.”

”But I already am for fuck’s sake!”

His expression turned tender. ”I know.”

”Then let me be involved.”

He reached up, gently touching my cheek, his thumb tracing the same slow path he had used earlier to explore his own bruise.

”I don’t want their problems becoming yours.”

”They already feel like mine when they hurt you, stupid.”

Something flickered across his face, pain...or maybe guilt.

I couldn’t tell, and before I could press for clarification, Damien smiled, because apparently he believed that emotional honesty was only allowed in tiny doses.

”Aw, you’re very over-protective of me.”

I frowned. ”Don’t fucking change the subject.”

He teased, his voice slipping back into a playful tone. ”It’s almost cute, in a wild, slightly scary way.”

Before I could think, I grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked him across the shoulder with it.

”Ow.”

”You deserved that!”

”But I was complimenting you.”

”You were dodging the question!”

I hit him with another pillow, harder this time, just to make my point.

This time, he laughed, the sound filling the room, warm and low, completely unfair given the situation, and despite myself, I grinned even while trying to maintain the moral high ground.

‎I shot him a scowl, my serious demeanor cracking just enough for frustration to seep through. ”And don’t call me cute when I’m trying to—”

‎

‎He didn’t let me finish. Instead, he pushed up slightly and placed a soft, lingering kiss on my cheek, a gesture designed to distract me that only intensified my protective anger for a fleeting moment

”You are so infuriating,” I muttered.

He caught my wrist before I could hit him again and pulled me toward him, effectively disarming me both physically and emotionally in one smooth move.

I found myself landing against his chest with an annoyed huff.

”Let me go, you deflective little shit.”

”No.”

”Damien.”

”Go to sleep, baby.”

”I’m trying to talk to you.”

”You’re tired.”

”I’m not.”

”You are.”

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer, ending the argument with sheer physical stubbornness.

I sighed, feeling some of my fight fade away despite my best intentions to hold onto it. ”You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

”Not tonight.”

I wanted to argue.

I really did, I had at least four more questions lined up and ready to fire.

‎”I mean it,” he said, his voice low now. ”Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it under control, my family won’t bother us anymore.”

He gently tugged my wrist, pulling me closer against his chest, wrapping his arms around me in that familiar, unhurried way that signaled he wanted to end the conversation.

”Just go to sleep... or do you want me to fuck you unconscious again?”

His casual tone made me chuckle incredulously while getting a slight pang of fear.

I remembered that day, where I was way to busy studying and ignoring Damien’s please to get some sleep, then he grabbed me, tossed me over his shoulder and practically threw my ass on the bed.

And when I kept struggling, he pounded into me so hard I was out like a light right after.

”You’re a menace,” I muttered against his collarbone, my words more playful than truly annoyed. ”I hope you recognize that.”

‎

‎”I do,” he replied, his hand soothingly stroking my back, the motion making it increasingly difficult to cling to my frustrations. ”Now stop thinking so loudly and close your eyes.”

‎

‎I fell silent after that, not because I felt resolved but because the warmth of him and the weight in my limbs made it hard to continue my questioning.

After a moment, I stopped resisting. ”Fine, whatever.”

He kissed the top of my head. ”Good boy.”

”But we’re talking about it later.”

”Of course.”

”Promise?”

There was just a pause, long enough for me to notice. ”I promise.”

I settled against him again, letting my eyes drift shut.Then his quiet voice came from above me.

”Now go to sleep.”

Damien’s breathing soon evened out, deep and steady, like someone who had already decided it was time for rest.

His arms held me firmly even in his sleep, cradling me with a gentle intensity that felt less like possessiveness and more like a fear of losing me if he let go even slightly.

‎

‎For a long while, I lay there staring at the ceiling, the low light of the room enveloping us both.

Occasionally, my gaze returned to the faint bruise on his face, still noticeable in the low light, and the unease within me flared up again.

He had claimed he’d taken care of it.

He said they wouldn’t bother us again. But those words should have been enough to allow me to close my eyes and drift off into the same peaceful slumber he had already found.

Yet, something about how he brushed off the issue kept the question swirling in my mind long after the room had quieted.

‎

‎He said he’d handled it. So why did the bruise on his cheek still feel like some kind of dark ominous sign?

‎