I Had To Share A Bed With My New Roommate- Part 4

The bed was smaller than I thought. Like, we could fit—but barely. No space in between. No buffer zone. If one of us rolled over, we’d end

The bed was smaller than I thought.

Like, we could fit—but barely. No space in between. No buffer zone. If one of us rolled over, we’d end up tangled without even trying.

When my dad said we had to sell one of the twin beds, I thought maybe I’d die. Or explode. Or jerk off until my brain collapsed. But instead, I just lay there—wide awake, horny as fuck, pressed against the edge of the mattress while Damien got comfortable like it was no big deal.

That night, he turned to me before the lights went out.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

I looked at him. “For what?”

“For moving here. For, like… taking away your privacy. Now we have to share a bed. It’s kind of fucked.”

He sounded genuine. And that made it worse somehow.

I shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”

Then we turned off the lights.

And I was officially in hell.

We both lay on our backs at first, stiff and silent like two corpses. The fan buzzed overhead. The sheets were thin. I could feel his body heat. His arm brushed mine at one point and I flinched, pretending to shift like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing.

His thigh bumped into mine. His foot grazed mine under the blanket. He didn’t react. Just kept sleeping. Like he wasn’t driving me crazy with every inch of unintentional contact.

And me? I was hard. Again.

But jerking off now? That felt way too fucked. He was right there. Inches away. I could feel the way the mattress dipped under his weight. Hear his slow, steady breathing. He smelled like soap and heat and fucking comfort, and I hated how much I wanted to press myself against him.

So I stayed still. Let my cock throb untouched in my boxers while I stared at the ceiling and tried not to lose my mind.

I don’t know when it happened, but I must’ve started drifting. I remember staring into the dark, eyes half-lidded, breath shallow, just barely slipping into that warm edge of sleep…

And then I heard it.

A moan.

Soft.

Barely a breath.

I opened my eyes. My whole body tensed.

Another sound. A low hum in the back of his throat. Like a whimper swallowed too late.

I turned my head.

Damien was facing me.

Eyes shut. Still asleep. Lips parted. Breathing uneven.

I froze.

Then I looked down.

The blanket over his hips had shifted.

And under it—

A clear, hard outline. Thick. Straining against his briefs.

My mouth went dry.

He was hard.

He wasn’t touching himself. His hands were tucked near his chest, curled like he was hugging a pillow. But he was clearly hard. And moaning.

Holy shit, I thought. He’s dreaming.

My whole body started buzzing. My cock was already twitching. Just seeing it—seeing him like that—was enough to make my whole chest tighten. He was beautiful in the dark. His skin glowed in the moonlight sneaking through the blinds. His brow furrowed a little. His mouth twitched.

Then he muttered something.

Barely a whisper.

“I like it…”

I almost came right there.

It wasn’t loud. I couldn’t even tell if it was words or just sound. But I didn’t care. It was enough. My hand slid under the blanket before I could even stop myself.

I faced him.

My body curled slightly toward his. Our knees touched under the sheet.

I started stroking.

Slow. Silent. Just enough pressure to chase the heat building inside me.

Damien moaned again. His cock twitched in his briefs, still untouched, still dreaming. I imagined what he was seeing. Who he was with. If he was topping or bottoming. If he was being edged, teased, told to hold it. Or maybe just alone, jerking off like he should’ve been doing this whole time.

I picked up the pace.

My breath got shallow. My abs tensed. I kept my eyes on his face—those lips, that neck, the soft rise and fall of his chest. He whispered again, but I couldn’t make out the words this time. His cock stayed hard, trapped under his underwear, twitching against the fabric.

And me?

I was right on the edge.

I bit my lip.

My toes curled.

I stroked faster, breathing through my nose, heart pounding so loud I thought I’d wake him up with it.

Then we came.

At the same fucking time.

I gasped. My whole body jerked. I bit my tongue to keep quiet but a moan still slipped out.

And Damien—

He let out a long, low exhale. His cock throbbed under his briefs, wet patch forming slowly on the fabric. He didn't even wake up.

I lay there afterward, still and panting.

Sticky.

Ashamed.

Turned on all over again.

Because I still hadn’t caught him jerking off.

But I saw him come.

And now I knew: he could do it.

He just wasn’t letting me see it.

Yet.