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Another late night coming home at 2AM with just your gay roommate, and not a hot bisexual goth girl, is always a punch in the gut as soon as Trinity opens the front door to her shared apartment.
“You totally ruined my chances with that butch girl. I fucking hate you sometimes.” She says to Dennis as he closes the door behind them, turning the deadbolt lock. Trinity kicks off her shoes and walks to the couch, flopping down with one leg up. She flicks the TV on, not tired at all after three vodka redbulls and a night of being sexually frustrated.
“Okay, fist of all, I-I didn’t even throw up on her, I threw up next to her, and second of all, she was being weird and creepy to you, so I basically saved you from another three-week toxic situationship.” Dennis retorts, moving to the kitchen to grab them both glasses of water.
Trinity’s face falters as she tries not to laugh. She supposes he was right, but she wouldn’t admit that, wouldn’t give him that satisfaction that he knows her type so well and wants to make sure she’s keeping herself safe and sane. When he gets to the couch, he places the glasses of water on the coffee table, then roughly pushes Trinity’s leg off the couch to give himself room to sit down. She immediately puts her leg back up, though, over Dennis’ lap.
“What are we watching?” He asks, leaning over to grab the glass and taking a large gulp. Trinity gets really touchy when she was drunk, but it wasn’t often that Dennis was the target of it. He would like it if she weren’t such a lesbian. But Dennis had a habit of having raging, bisexual thoughts sometimes when he’s drunk, and his gut twists uncomfortably.
Trinity brings her other leg up to Dennis’ lap, crossing them comfortably as she spread herself out across the man. Too fucking touchy. “Uhh… I dunno. I think this is 2 Broke Girls, I just clicked on whatever was recommended.” She looks over at Dennis. She dressed him up pretty tonight. Every once in a while, he’ll let her pick out her own clothes for him to wear. He was wearing a pair of her pants, purely because she had said his “thick farm boy legs” looked good in them. And she wasn’t lying, lots of guys were on Dennis like moths to a twinky flame, but he was just too picky, probably because he already had a crush on a certain attending in the Pitt who was on a sabbatical at the moment. He was weird like that, whereas Trinity, if she found a woman she liked, she was getting it. Just… no one was particularly appealing at the bar they went to. It was a pretty male-heavy establishment, much to her dismay. Next time, they were going to a lesbian bar as payback. Lipstick Lounge, she thinks briefly.
There were evil, dark times in her life over the past year or so where Trinity thought Dennis looked pretty like a girl. This was one of those nights. Femininity was always Trinity’s main aspect of attraction, and with Dennis in women’s clothes—her clothes—the way they clung to his hips tightly, studded belt loose and useless, just for show, he looked genuinely a little sexy. It pissed Trinity off that she started feeling that all too familiar heat pooling in her core, but she was just a little too tipsy to care about the ramifications of wanting to make out with a man.
“Kinda sucks that neither of us are getting any tonight.” She speaks up after a few minutes, sitting up on her elbows and looking at Dennis. He gives her a confused side-eye, brows furrowing, but not risking a look at her.
“Yeah… I guess so.” He manages. Trinity rubs her legs together on Dennis’ lap as she scoots down the couch closer to him.
“Right, like, when was the last time you even kissed someone?”
Dennis looks at her then, narrowing his eyes at her in a look that asks ‘Why the fuck did you just ask me that?’ He lets out a low, drunken laugh just to calm the sudden surge of nerves bubbling up in his chest at her closeness.
“Fucking… I have no idea. Maybe six months? A year? I don’t exactly keep track.”
“That long, huh?” She says, surprised, her eyebrows raised. “Poor Huckleberry, I can’t even imagine the last time you got fucked either.” Her eyelids lower as she gives him an evil smile.
That makes Dennis flush, and Trinity smirks in his face as she leans in closer. “Don’t say it like that…” He mumbles.
“What, you’re saying you’re a top?” She tilts her head with a knowing look on her face, teasing him as she rests her arm on the back of the couch near Dennis’ head, those sandy curls starting to tickle her.
“N-no…” Dennis responds, shy and meek, shoulders raised to his ears. Trinity scoots closer to where her butt is pressing against Dennis’ thigh, legs bent and locking him in against the couch like a thick, squishy, warm seatbelt.
“That’s what I thought.” She’s way too close now, her words hot against his ear, almost a whisper. “Wanna make out about it?” She asks suddenly, and it makes Dennis’ breath catch in his chest, she can feel the way his heartbeat picks up slightly.
“Trin…” The uncommon nickname slips past his lips as he feels her delicate, manicured fingernails against his jaw, turning his face toward her. He involuntarily licks his lips, and it looks to her like the perfect invitation when his tongue slips back into his mouth, but his lips stay parted, eyes locked onto her mouth. She closes that small gap, lips brushing against his, like it’s a test, an experiment, or maybe something just to let the tension charge between them. Dennis exhales shakily into her mouth, before his eyes flutter closed and he connects their lips fully. His lips are soft, and moistened with chapstick. She wants to tease him about it, laugh and call him gay just for wearing chapstick, but making an obvious comment like that would break whatever spell she had put them under. She still found it a little funny, though.
Dennis kisses like a man starved, like Trinity is the butcher feeding scraps to the stray cat that was Dennis’ desire. When she pulls back, he chases her lips, making her laugh against his mouth as he strains his neck out to reach her. He opens his eyes after a moment, those big, beautiful blues looking at her with far too many emotions for Trinity to map out. Something like fear, like he was being caught doing something he shouldn’t be, but most certainly flustered and breathless, and damn desperate. She doesn’t want to think about it, so she tilts her head, connecting their lips once again, with a little more movement, her hand cradling his jaw and thumb brushing against his cheek as their lips smack softly against each other. Dennis’ hands are glued to the couch, gripping the fabric right next to Trinity’s leg, the other gripping the armrest, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, or doesn’t want to do something without her telling him to.
This was Trinity’s first time kissing a guy since she was a teenager, and a part of her, the rational part of her brain, is saying, ‘nope, nope, gross’, but the other, horny and drunk part of her brain, overtakes her thoughts with ‘look how easily I can control him, I want to see him beg for more.’ Dennis wasn’t like any of the guys she had the misfortune of playing tonsil tennis with before, he was kind, unreasonably soft, and melted into her touch with quiet sighs that rattled in her chest. He even sounded like a girl when he was like this, too, and it sends another wave of heat through her. She pulls back again, and she keeps his head still as she looks over him. He looks terrifyingly beautiful as she traced her thumb across his bottom lip, and he actually shudders, looks like he has to actively force himself not to dart his tongue out to taste her skin.
“God dammit, Dennis, this is so fucking stupid—“ She cuts herself off with another kiss, moving her body to give her better access to his mouth, bending one leg under herself, the other coming between Dennis’ legs as she all but crawls on top of him. He makes a surprised sound against her, but doesn’t break the kiss.
When she presses her tongue to his lip, his hands fly to her waist instinctively, fingers gripping her through her shirt before lessening the pressure, just holding his hands there as she took control of his mouth. Her hand is on his jaw again, her grip almost possessive, and it sends a thrill through her the way he spreads his legs a little, tilts his head up, and makes the cutest little whimper when her grip tightens. She wants to put her other hand on his chest, grope the lack of breasts there, tease his nipples like he was an actual woman, but somehow resists the urge. Maybe that was too much humiliation for him, maybe she was scared of taking this too far, so she keeps the other hand on his shoulder, thumb lightly grazing the skin at the hem of his shirt. He’s panting hard when they part, Trinity can feel his pulse on the grip she has on his jaw.
In a sudden bold effort from Dennis, his grip on her hips tighten, and she’s being pulled completely into his lap. When she seats herself over his thighs, she can feel the obvious warmth of his growing erection. She doesn’t even know if he knows that she can feel it. It seems more like he just wants her to have better access to his mouth. When she decides the great idea to start peppering wet kisses down Dennis’ neck, stopping to nip at his trapezius muscle, she feels it twitch, and Dennis lets out a pornographic whine as his hips roll up into her own clothed sex. And oh, if he didn’t realise what he was doing before, he definitely knows now.
This was all fun, but it was starting to teeter on the line of dangerous if either of them went further, and that logical part of Trinity’s brain started chiming in again. ‘EW! I can fucking feel it twitch, what the fuck!’ But then, ‘I don’t have to touch it, what if I just… ‘She lifts her hips up, then grinds her ass down into where she can feel his shaft growing.
“Oh, fuck, Trinity—“ A lick up his neck, “Please—“ A bite to his clavicle. “Aah! God—“ Another slow, experimental drag of her hips along his cock. “Trin—“
“Is that good? Does it feel good when I do this?” She sounds almost surprised at how much it seems like just some over-the-clothes grinding has affected him.
“Fucking… yes, obviously. Kiss me again, please.”
“So eager. It doesn’t take much to rile you up, does it, baby?” But Trinity knew that already. She pops a few buttons on his shirt just to find something to fiddle with in her hands.
Dennis gasps, short and sharp, at the pet name. “Don’t… don’t call me that…”
“Oh, but I think you like it.”
“Mmm… ah…” He can’t get a word out when she continues her attack on his neck, flipping her hair to one side and eagerly taking the skin into her mouth, lightly grazing her teeth along the sensitive flesh over his pulse point.
His hands are on her thighs now, grounding himself more than trying to control her movements. She finally heeds his request and kisses him again, slow and methodical, in a way that sends ripples from her chest to her stomach, where is settles there, all warm and fuzzy.
“Is this,” He pants out, “Is this good for you? Is there anything I can—“
“Just hold me like this, and keep making those sounds.” She moves one of his hands back up to her waist, fingers skimming the exposed skin below her crop top, feeling, exploring with nervous caresses. The one still on her thigh plays with the hem of her shorts near her knee, just feeling the fabric between his fingers, how it contrasts with the heated skin pressed against his knuckles, how he could, if he were a more brave, dominant man, snake his hand all the way up her leg to press the pads of his fingers against her aching core. But instead, he follows her command, he wants to follow her every command, no matter where she leads him.
“I think I can do that.” He nods with a soft, wavering exhale.
And she’s back on him, each swipe of her tongue making Dennis’ heart stutter and a rough moan escape between them.
“Yeah, just like that.” She praises against his lips, earning another whimper from the man below her. God, he is doing wonders for her ego right now. He’s so pliant and soft underneath her, like she could crush him if she grinds down on him too forcefully, but she’s knows he’s a tough boy, he can take whatever she gives him. His whimpers turn into throaty groans as the inseam of her shorts meet his clothed erection with a slow drags, then wiggling a little bit up and down along it. She has no idea what she’s doing, just that the firmness of his cock presses into her sex like a dildo teasing her through the cloth of her panties. Her dominant resolve slips, and she sighs into his mouth as she starts to pleasure herself against him.
“Trinity, holy fuck—“ He manages between kisses, his chest heaving as she continues her absolute assault on his groin.
He starts bucking up into her like he was chasing an orgasm, hard and intense against her core, and suddenly this whole situation cames crashing down on her, as if she had sobered up. He was going to cum in his pants, right here under her while he drags his cock right where the inseam of her jeans brushed against her clit. She could feel the warm wetness beginning to form in her underwear, sending shivers down her spine. The sound of the sitcom on the TV came into her senses, sounding louder than Dennis now, and she pulls away to look down at him. The face of her roommate. Gay roommate, and she’s a lesbian, borderline terrified of dicks, what the fuck were they doing?
Dennis seemed to sense this sudden shift, and his eyes open, face turning from that of raw desperation to concern on a dime. “What, what… is this okay? Do you wanna stop?” His voice is wrecked, breathless and cracking at the ends, but still etched with worry.
“Yeah, no, I’m done, I think.” She doesn’t apologise, there was no reason to. She got what she wanted, and didn’t plan on going any further, not that she had even been planning to go this far in the first place.
“Okay… okay… that’s fine.” He’s still panting as she climbs off of him, his shirt unbuttoned halfway and face flushed to the tips of his ears. She stands up from the couch, looking down at his disheveled form. He did still look damn pretty, unfortunately. “Are we going to talk about what just happened?” She shakes her head no and moves to leave, but not before bending down and placing a final, quick kiss to those absurdly pretty lips, and that just twists things up even more in Dennis’ mind and his gut.
“Goodnight, Fuckleberry.” She says as evenly as she can, despite the lingering heat between her legs.
“Yeah… ‘Night.” Then, to himself, after she was in her bedroom, door shut and locked, “What the fuck… What… the fuck?”
When Trinity hears the shower running a few minutes later, she knows what Dennis is doing in there. She tries not to feel bad about it as she pulls her blanket over her shoulders and wills herself to sleep.