Taking Care of My Roommate | E5

All characters in this story are over 18 years of age.

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My Roommate Felt Strangely Tense. I Helped Him Relax.

In the evening, the living room was dimly lit. Only one lamp by the sofa, warm light, silence after a long day. Mike sat in a towel, his hair still damp from the shower. He rested his elbow on a pillow, his weight sinking into the sofa as if he had suddenly stopped holding himself up. He looked relaxed, but I knew it too well, the tension hadn't gone away, it had just shifted.

His shoulders were raised slightly too high. His back was stiff. His hips were positioned as if something inside was bothering him. The towel hung loosely, revealing his thigh and part of his stomach. He was breathing slowly, but not deeply. Like someone who hadn't allowed himself to breathe fully yet.

I sat down next to him, calmly, without rushing. Close, but not too close. I wanted him to feel my presence, not pressure. We just sat there for a moment, the sound of the TV playing somewhere in the background, completely irrelevant.

I leaned over slightly.

"Everything okay?" I asked quietly.

He didn't answer right away. I saw his jaw tense, his gaze drifting to the side. Then he sighed, as if the question had touched exactly the place that hurt.

"I don't know, man," he said in a low voice. "I feel... strangely tense. Yes... inside."

I didn't comment. I didn't comfort him. I just watched. I watched his chest rise unevenly, the way his fingers clenched the edge of the towel. I already knew that this wasn't just muscle tension. Not after what had happened between us. Not after his body had learned to respond to my touch.

It was something deeper. A need that didn't have words yet.

And I knew exactly how to help him.

I sat closer. So that our thighs touched. The warmth of his body radiated through the damp towel, which was starting to slide lower and lower. Mike didn't adjust it. He didn't look at me right away. He was still kind of inside himself, but not closed off. Rather, he was open in a way that you only know when you've been watching for a long time. I felt that his tension wasn't a protest. It was anticipation.

"I know what will help you," I said quietly. "It's a little strange... but effective. Do you want it?"

He didn't answer right away. He turned his head toward me, raised an eyebrow, and for a second I thought his old, confident smile was coming back. But what appeared on his face was something else. A half-smile. Soft. Embarrassed. But without resistance.

"With you, everything starts to feel strangely good," he muttered.

I reached out my hand to him. He got up without a word and let me lead him.

I led him to the bedroom. The bed was warm from my body, because I had been lying in it a moment ago. Mike lay down on his stomach without asking. The towel was still on his hips, but only for a moment. I slid it down slowly.

His skin was smooth, warm, smelling of shower gel and something deeper, as if he had absorbed the scent of my touch. I placed my hand on his back. He immediately relaxed his shoulder blades. Then my other hand on his hip. I moved it down to his thigh, where my fingers gently spread his legs apart.

Mike didn't ask why I was doing this. He didn't stop me.

He lifted his hips himself, reflexively, barely, but enough.

He was now lying in front of me, open, calm, with a trust that no longer needed words.

I knelt between his spread thighs. First, just my hands, stroking his freshly shaved ass, slowly, as if he were memorizing my touch. The skin was warm, soft, responding to every movement. I gently parted his buttocks, feeling Mike tense reflexively, and then, after a moment, relax. As if he understood that he didn't have to defend himself.

I leaned down lower. I started with kisses. Small, tender ones, scattered over his skin, closer and closer, slower and slower. I could smell his body and the water, the warmth that grew with every inch. Mike sighed into the pillow, briefly, as if surprised by his own reaction.

My tongue touched him for the first time, just a brush. Lightly. Testing. I paused for a moment, giving him time. His hips tensed, then relaxed. Then I began to circle my tongue more carefully, rhythmically, without haste. Wet. Warm. Calm.

"Dude... what are you..." he whispered. "Oh fuck..."

I lifted my head.

"Should I stop?" I asked calmly.

"No..." he replied immediately, without hesitation. "Please. Continue."

I returned to him. My tongue worked more confidently, deeper, with feeling. I breathed through my nose, my hands holding his buttocks steady, guiding him. I controlled the pace, the pressure, the rhythm. Mike began to gently rock his hips, as if his body was seeking more on its own. His breathing quickened, his hand clenched the sheets.

I heard his quiet moans, felt his muscles tremble. It wasn't just a new sensation. It was the discovery of a place that no one had ever touched with such care before. His body was learning to accept.

I took my time. I wanted him to remember it exactly. To know that what was happening was safe. Guided. And that he could immerse himself in it completely.

It was an initiation.

Not just sexual, emotional.

And I felt that Mike would never forget what he had just experienced.

I finished slowly. Not violently, not spectacularly. My tongue slowed down until the last touch was just a quiet goodbye. A kiss, not a gesture. I gently brought his buttocks together and for a moment just held my hands on his hips. The warmth of his skin pulsed through my fingers, as if it were breathing with me.

I didn't move away right away. I stayed there, kneeling, staring at his back, which rose and fell unevenly. Mike didn't move. His face was buried in the pillow, breathing heavily, like someone who had just returned from a place he had never been before.

After a moment, I got up and lay down next to him. I didn't touch him right away, I gave him space, but I was close. Very close. Close enough for him to feel that he wasn't alone.

A minute passed. Maybe two. In this silence, there was no need to say anything.

Finally, he spoke softly. His voice was rough, as if something was trembling inside him.

"I didn't know something like this could exist."

I looked at him.

"This is just the beginning, Mike," I said calmly. "Now your body is really ready for more."

I hugged him. Quietly. Confidently. From behind. Our bodies fit together effortlessly, as if they had known each other for years.

At that moment, there was nothing else to do.

Just be and last.

Because Mike didn't just let me touch him.

He let me get to know him.

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