Roommates With Benefits [BL]

By the time my back hit the wall, the kiss had already turned into a bit of a mess, and I could feel the weight of the last four years pouring out of both of us.

Damien’s mouth moved against mine like he was trying to make up for every lost moment in just one kiss, and I responded in kind, lips parting and our tongues sliding together in a slow, wet drag that sent heat pooling low in my stomach.

Fuck...I forgot how much I needed him...

I needed him like I needed oxygen...

My hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, searching for the warmth of his skin, fingertips tracing the hard planes of his stomach and the faint ridges of muscle that tensed under my touch.

My own shirt was half-pulled up; his fingers had gotten impatient, pushing it higher until the fabric bunched under my arms, the cool air of the hallway kissing the newly exposed skin. But honestly, I didn’t care.

All I could focus on was the way his thigh slipped between mine, thick and solid, grinding against the ache building in my jeans with slow pressure that made my breath catch.

I was shaking, but not from fear or frustration anymore...but with something hotter and more desperate had taken over. Every time Damien’s hands dragged down my sides and squeezed my ass, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us, soft curses escaped me between kisses.

”God—Damien—don’t stop.” I moaned.

He responded with a low sound against my mouth, doing it again, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to leave some marks, like he needed to feel that I was really there, solid and his.

As if to let himself know that this wasn’t a dream, wasn’t a mere fantasy.

The quiet of the house made the wet sounds of our mouths and the rustling of clothes seem louder.

I could hear my own breathing, ragged and uneven, punctuating the occasional ”I missed you” that kept slipping out, each one thick with need.

His pants were already undone, though I couldn’t even recall when the heck that had happened.

I just knew my hand found the hard line of him through the fabric, thick and straining, and then inside it.

Now, my fingers were wrapped around the thick heat of him while he kissed me like he was starving, tongue stroking deep into my mouth. I stroked him once, slow and firm, feeling the velvet-smooth skin and the heavy pulse beneath my palm, and his whole body shuddered against me. That was all the encouragement I needed.

Without warning, I fell to my knees.

The coolness of the hallway floor barely registered as Damien’s hands hovered near my shoulders for a moment, surprised, before one slid into my hair, fingers threading through the strands with a careful grip.

Looking up at him, I finished unbuttoning and sliding his pants down just enough, the fabric catching on his hips before giving way. When I finally freed him completely, my eyes widened slightly.

Well...holy fuck. Hello there, big guy.

It’s been a long while, hasn’t it?

I had forgotten...(or maybe tried to forget, who really knows?) just how thick he was, all heavy and flushed a deep, angry red, already leaking at the tip, the head glistening under the low light.

My hand felt small wrapped around him, fingers not quite meeting as I stroked him again, slower this time, almost in awe, watching the way his abs tensed and his head tipped back before those dark eyes found mine again.

”Sunshine—”

I leaned in and took him into my mouth.

The first slide was a bit clumsy; it had been four years, and my throat had forgotten how to stretch for him.

I gagged softly when he hit the back of my throat too soon, my eyes watering, spit already gathering at the corners of my lips, but I adjusted, breathing through my nose and pulling back just enough to find a rhythm that worked.

Damien’s reaction was instant and he let out a low, rough groan that seemed to vibrate through him, and the hand in my hair tightened without pushing me deeper.

He let me set the pace, his hips twitching with obvious restraint as I worked him with my mouth and the tight grip of my fist, the wet heat of my tongue sliding along the underside of his cock with every slow bob of my head.

”Yes...that’s it,” he breathed, his voice already wrecked. ”God, just look at you. Missed this mouth so much...you’re doing so good, Sunshine.”

The praise sent heat rushing down my spine, coiling tight in my gut. I hummed around him, the vibration drawing another rough sound from his throat, and took him a little deeper while looking up through my lashes, just like before, seeing how his eyes darkened with something hungry and possessive.

The wet sounds filled the quiet hallway and so unmistakable, the soft, filthy slide of my mouth around him and I could feel how much he enjoyed them by the way his grip flexed in my hair every time I hollowed my cheeks and drew back slowly, letting my tongue linger at the sensitive head before taking him deep again.

I used my tongue on the underside, swirled it over the slit to taste the salt of him, then took him as deep as I could manage again, choking a little while feeling his thighs tense under my free hand.

He kept murmuring the whole time, low and filthy mixed with soft ”I love you”s that made my chest ache, even as my own cock throbbed, untouched and leaking in my open jeans.

Just when his sounds told me he was getting close, with his breath coming shorter, hips stuttering and Damien pulled me off with a wet, filthy pop.

Looking up, my lips red and shiny, spit-slick and a bit dazed, I let out a soft sound of protest ready to tell his ass off for doing that. But he didn’t give me time to argue.

He caught me up to my feet, kissed me hard enough that I tasted myself on his tongue...salt and heat and him and then practically lifted me, carrying me those few steps to the bedroom.

The next thing I knew, I was landing on my back on the bed with a soft bounce, and he was right there after me, caging me in with his arms and kissing me again, as if he couldn’t bear the slightest distance.

He took his time undressing me after that.

With my shirt already off, he worked my jeans and underwear down my legs with a slow pace, kissing every newly exposed inch of skin.

My collarbone, lingering there with open-mouthed heat. The center of my chest, where my heart was pounding. The gentle curve of my stomach, tongue dipping into the hollow of my navel and making me twitch.

He kept murmuring about how beautiful I was, how much he had missed seeing me like this, how he had dreamed about having me spread out under him again and each word a low, rough caress against my skin.

When I was finally completely naked, Damien sat back on his heels for a long moment, just looking at me. I felt the weight of his gaze and instinctively tried to cover myself with one hand. He gently caught my wrist and guided it away.

”Don’t hide from me,” he said, his voice low and rough. ”I’ve waited four years to see you like this again.”

Those words hit me deep in my chest. I stayed still while he took me in, heat creeping up my neck and down to where I was already hard and leaking against my stomach, the tip shiny and flushed.

Then he moved, settling between my thighs, and began slowly.

First, he kissed my inner thighs, nuzzling the sensitive skin and breathing me in, the stubble along his jaw scraping lightly and making me shiver. I was already squirming by the time he finally took me into his mouth.

The wet heat of him felt almost overwhelming after so long...hot and perfect, his tongue pressing firm along the underside as he sank down. He sucked me thoroughly and with purpose, maintaining intense eye contact whenever he could, one strong hand holding my hip down so I couldn’t thrust up as my body desperately wanted to do.

His other hand stroked what his mouth couldn’t cover, firm and steady, matching the rhythm of his tongue, thumb occasionally sweeping over the sensitive head to gather the precum and spread it.

I was extremely vocal, with moans, gasps, and broken versions of his name spilled out of me without holding back.

My hands fisted in the sheets, then tangled in his dark hair, holding on as he deliberately varied the pace: slow and deep one moment, faster and tighter the next, always keeping me right on the edge.

”D-Damien...shit!”

Every time I got too close, he pulled off, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my hip or the soft skin of my inner thigh while I squirmed and cursed and begged, thighs shaking around his head.

The contrast between how gentle his hands were when stroking my sides and how intense and relentless his mouth was made everything sharper.

I kept thinking ’I can’t believe this is happening again after four years’, over and over, while my body arched and trembled underneath him, every nerve lit up and desperate.

He brought me to the brink three times, then finally, with one last slow lick from base to tip, he pulled away completely.

I was left aching, flushed, leaking against my stomach, my hips twitching helplessly in the empty air.

Damien looked up at me with that same devastating smile he used to wear when he knew he had me just where he wanted me—dark and satisfied, slightly wicked—while he wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. And in that moment, I realized I was already completely ruined for anyone else all over again.

I reached for him, my voice wrecked. ”Damien...you asshole. Stop fucking around and just fuck me...please—”

He crawled up my body and kissed me, slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue while the hard, heavy weight of him pressed against my hip.

”I’ve got you,” he murmured against my mouth. ”I’m not going anywhere. You’re mine, Oliver. Only yours.”

I pulled him closer, wrapping my legs around his waist, and the rest of the world faded away. Four years of missing him poured out through every touch, every kiss, every desperate roll of our hips together.

The fear that had gripped me earlier was still there somewhere, but it no longer held me captive. What held me now was the heat of his skin, the sound of his breathing, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.