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Alistair flopped back onto the hard, narrow bed provided by the university’s dormitories with a contented sigh. Uncomfortable though he might be, he had the room to himself for once and he fully intended to enjoy it. His workaholic roommate, Cullen Rutherford, seemed perfectly happy to never leave the dorm room except for classes. His really, really hot workaholic roommate. Alistair groaned as he felt his cock already starting to twitch inside his jeans. He pressed the heels of his hands into his rib cage and slid them slowly down his torso, shivering slightly at the pressure. He paused when his hands reached the waist of his jeans, then moved one of them to cover the rapidly swelling bulge contained within. He squeezed lightly, sliding his other hand under his shirt and up his chest to pinch a nipple. His hips thrust upwards at the sensation, and he let out a soft whimper. He removed his hand from his covered cock and quickly flipped open the button on his jeans, bringing both hands to his waist to shove them and his boxers down out of the way. His erection sprang free, bobbing against his stomach.
This is wrong, he thought. You should definitely not be thinking about this right now.
But there he was, eyes drifted shut, one hand gliding lightly along his shaft, images of Cullen flashing through his mind.
Cullen coming out of the bathroom after a shower, plaid pyjama bottoms slung low on his hips, rubbing his curly hair with a blue towel.
His free hand slid up his chest again, tweaking a nipple, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers. He brought his fingers to his lips for a moment, licking them, and returned them to their previous motion, imagining it was Cullen’s mouth on him.
Cullen hunched over his desk, flipping through reports, marking down notes about the most important points he found.
His hand gripped his cock tighter, his thumb brushing over the tip to collect the moisture already collecting there. He wasn’t going to last long at this rate.
Cullen eating quickly, trying to get back to work, his tongue darting out to collect a bit of cake left on his bottom lip.
Alistair groaned and began thrusting into his hand. The hand that was on his chest slid down to cup his sac and he tugged lightly, feeling Cullen’s larger hand against him rather than his own. He gasped and pressed his hips hard against the bed, his strokes coming faster until he found his release, hot white strips streaking up his shirt.
“Cullen,” he groaned.
That was when he heard the second gasp, the one he didn’t release. Alistair’s eyes shot open and he sat up, turning so fast he nearly tumbled off the bed. He gripped the edge to balance himself as he came face to face with Cullen.
“Crap. Crap! How long have you been standing there?” Alistair asked, his face reddening.
“Uh. Um. Long…long enough,” Cullen stammered.
“Maker’s breath…” Alistair mumbled. “Look, I, uh. I’m sorry. I’ll go to the residence management and request a transfer. You don’t have to - “ he trailed off when he realised that Cullen’s face was nearly as red as his own, and the other man was shifting uncomfortably as he leaned against the door, one hand pressed to his crotch as if he was (unsuccessfully) trying to prevent attention from being drawn to it.
“Wait a minute,” Alistair said slowly. “Did you…no. You didn’t. Did you…not mind, seeing that?”
Cullen took a deep breath and shook his head slowly. Alistair smirked and stood up.
“You didn’t mind, then, hearing me groan your name as I came?” He stepped towards the door.
Cullen shook his head again.
“Would you mind, then,” Alistair said, a sudden burst of confidence flaring through him as he closed in on Cullen’s space, “if I kissed you, just now?”
“Maker, no,” Cullen said, finding both his voice and Alistair’s waist as he tugged him closer, one hand sliding up to twine in the short hair at the back of his head as their lips clumsily found each other.