“I honestly fucking hate you,” I blurted out.
“Good,” he said, “Because I can’t stand you. But when we fuck, it reminds me why I bother to keep you around instead of letting you sleep on the streets. If you’re going to suck cock and take dick to keep a roof over your head, it might as well be mine.”
“Do you have to be so disgusting?”
“Only because it makes your cock hard.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
His hands hooked into my pajama pants and he pulled them down over my ass. His fingers traced the curved outline of my ass cheek and his tongue flicked across my neck.
“Lube,” he breathed, his warm breath tickling my neck and stiffening my cock. I reached into my bedside table for lube, obeying Tony’s request.
“This would be so much better raw,” he murmured, “But… when I take your ass raw for the first time, I want you to beg for it.”
He squirted lube all over his finger and slid it between my cheeks, pressing it into my ass. I cried out as his finger plunged into me deep, getting my backdoor wet and ready for entry. He rolled a condom onto his cock. Tony pulled his finger out and kept his lips firmly around my neck as he teased my cheeks apart with his dick head. I tilted my neck and eased my hips back. Tony teased my backdoor open with the head of his dick. I winced as he thrust the first part of his cock into me. Tony groaned and slid the rest of his dick in my ass.
His cock stretched my backdoor, and I eased back against him as he buried his length in my ass. I cried out and Tony braced himself against my hips, moving inside me slowly at first, then speeding up. His warm breath grazed my neck as he heaved and gasped, rutting inside me. His cock stiffened as he came, erupting between my thighs and spilling into the rubber between us. Tony moved his dick out of me, and I expected him to smack my ass and leave.
But he lay there. One arm around me. I was too scared to say anything. If I spoke, Tony would probably get up and leave to spite me. But I was still hard. And even if he satisfied me earlier, I wanted more relief. My cheeks stuck together with lube spilling out of them. Tony tucked my ass back into my pajama pants and kissed my neck, almost sweetly.
“Max,” he murmured, with a hoarse, raspy voice.
“What?”
“I could fall asleep right here.”
I wanted to kiss him. To nestle in his arms. But I couldn’t allow myself to think Tony would stay.
17
TONY STONE
I came here to punish him. I used his ass and I had one job: leave and ignore him until the next time I needed to empty my cock in something warm and tight. He sighed and moved his shoulders, willing himself against pressing our bodies together. My fingers trailed over the length of his arm, tracing the outline of his surprisingly firm shoulders.
Some guys have all the luck. I had to work for every inch of muscle on my body but Max was naturally lean. Naturally muscular. I kissed his shoulder and he moved his ass, nestling it into my crotch. He didn’t dare speak, and I’m glad he didn’t. Words ruin moments too easily. Instead of talking, I needed warmth. Touch. Anything but more damn talking.
I fell asleep and when I woke up, Max wasn’t in bed with me. I couldn’t sit up without burying my nose in his pillow, smelling where he’d rest his head the night before. Before I worked up the energy to leave the room, Max pushed the door open.
“Have you been watching the news?”
“No,” I grumbled, “I haven’t.”
“People are actually dying from this thing. It’s serious.”
“Shit.”
“I don’t know how long it will be before the city opens up again. I doubt anyone’s hiring.”
“I guess I’m stuck with you, then?”
“Uh huh. Want breakfast? I made you some.”
I bit down on my lip, ignoring my instinctive reaction to lash out at him and push him away.
“Sure. I’ll have some. But this doesn’t mean we’re in some kind of relationship.”
“Relax. It’s breakfast. Not a fucking marriage proposal. I know you’re all Sexy-Texan, but that doesn’t mean I’m utterly fucking obsessed with you.”
Yeah. Right. He wasn’t obsessed with me. And that was good. I didn’t need Max pining after me with his soft brown eyes or his gently tanned skin. It wasn’t like I was obsessed with him either. Just his ass. And having his lips around my cock. But that’s not obsession. That’s run of the mill male hormones. Fucking natural.
I didn’t bother putting on a shirt as I walked into the kitchen.
“This is breakfast?”
Max rolled his eyes.
“Never had an Indian breakfast before?”
“If this is what you eat, no wonder you’re so fucking skinny.”
“I’m not that skinny,” Max said, but the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed how much he relished the compliment.
“Fine. But I need American orange juice with this.”
“Okay, okay.”
Max served me breakfast and sat next to me, hunching over the kitchen island. I raked my fingers through his hair.
“Your hair’s getting long.”
“Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Playing games.”
“I’m not playing games.”
“Tony. I know you. Okay? It’s no secret that you like attention. It’s no secret that you love when I’m fawning all over you. But I won’t let you lead me on.”
“Whatever.”
I ate for a while and finished Max’s food faster than I expected.
“Fuck. That was surprisingly good.”
“I’m going to ignore the racial undertones there. My white American mom taught me how to make this, by the way.”
“Damn. You surprised me.”
“Yeah, well. You surprised me.”
“Huh? Why?”
“You’re not as big of an asshole as I thought you were.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Shut up, Tony. I get you had your heart broken and that sucked but… if you gave people a chance to get to know you, not everyone would break your heart.”
“Don’t get all sentimental on me, Patel.”
He shrugged.
“Whatever.”
I grabbed his dirty dishes and washed them up in the sink. Max wandered off back to his room and locked the door behind him. What the hell was that funny feeling in my chest? My heart did backflips when I watched him walk away like I was about to have a fucking stroke or something.
Why did Max say the shit he did anyway? Was that part of his little gay dude game? Get you hooked by doing all the touchy-feely crap and then leave? Because make no mistake. Men are men. They leave. They treat people like shit. Even the good ones. Guys like Tom. Guys like Max. They all fucking leave. Even me. Especially me. Max doesn’t deserve a shit head like me.
Whatever he saw in me is fucking wrong, part of his idealization, a version of me in his head that’s nowhere as good as the real thing. I might have told Max the horrible shit that’s happened to me, but he doesn’t have a clue who I really am. The trust fund baby, the banker, the “straight” dude who’s living a lie. He deserves someone honest who will paint their fingernails black like his and hold his hand in public.
He deserves someone who isn’t greedy or a liar. He deserves someone far better than me. I showered and got to work, answering client emails, getting yelled at and disappointing my dad. All in a day’s work. In the afternoon, my mom called.
“Tony?”
“What?”
“We need to talk about something. Something serious.”
“What is it, ma?”
“Your dad’s sick. This illness going around… I told him to start wearing a mask. He said that the whole thing was a liberal conspiracy and he didn’t believe in… Oh God, Tony. He’s really sick and I don’t know where the hell he got it from but he’s in the hospital right now.”
“Calm down, mom. It’s dad. He�
��s a fighter. He’s going to be okay.”
My mom let out a loud sob. That was her thing: sobbing, having the family emotions. She was doting, if nothing else, the perfect Texas housewife.
“Mama, you listening to me?”
“Yes, Tony. Oh, baby, you stay out of trouble okay? And no matter what, don’t let any girlfriends over to your place. Not one, okay?”
“Yes, mama. I got it.”
“The doctors won’t even let me see him. Can you believe that? My own husband in the hospital and they won’t let me see him.”
“I’ll call them later and check on him. If he’s awake, I’m sure he’d like to hear my voice.”
“Love you, baby boy.”
“Love you, mama.”
Sick. Dad. I couldn’t believe it. Dad didn’t get sick. I’d watched him drink enough whiskey to kill a horse and get up the next day for his 5 a.m. workout. But he was stubborn. Mule stubborn. Fucking hell. I’d never forgive him if he left mama behind. I did my workout and avoided Max most of the day. He could spend hours in his room without peeking his head out. No wonder I had a deeper tan than he did.
Max eventually ambled out of his room in a black hoodie and boxers.
“Hey.”
“Have you been sleeping all day?”
“Don’t judge Rocky Balboa. Not all of us can spend our lives training for fight night.”
“What do you know about Rocky Balboa?”
“Not much. Only that my sister’s convinced that movie gave me my sexual awakening.”
“Want a beer?”
“Yeah. What happened to you earlier? I heard you on the phone.”
“It’s nothing.”
Max rolled his eyes.
“It’s my dad,” I said, “He’s sick.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. He probably brought it upon himself. My dad’s stubborn. And relentlessly Republican.”
“Ew.”
“Watch your mouth, Patel.”
“Sor-ry. I guess I’m too much of a Yankee to get it.”
Half the time he opened his mouth, I wanted to smack that little ‘Yankee’ as he so aptly put it.
“Well, I’m in a bit of a predicament myself. My sister wants to come over here.”
“Ain’t we supposed to be sheltering in place?”
“Yes. But she had a fight with her stupid boyfriend and now she wants to come over here.”
I raked my fingers through my hair. If Max had anyone over, they’d sniff out in a second the way he stared at me with those flirty eyes, biting down on his lower lip and all that. The dude was obvious.
“She can’t come over here.”
“You tell her that. She said she’s coming after yoga or whatever. I mean, it was her choice to kick me out.”
“That’s why you’re here?”
“You never bothered asking, but yes. My sister kicked me out.”
“Why? Did you make the move on her boyfriend?”
“I know you’re keeping your whole ‘I like guys’ thing a secret, Tony, but the rest of us don’t just throw ourselves at every guy we meet. It’s called self control. And I’m not into athletic douche-bros like Mark.”
“Ouch.”
“You know what I mean.”
There he was again, putting his foot in his mouth and working his way up to properly pissing me off.
“What did you mean, then?”
“Mark’s the type of guy who hates everything gay. He saw me on one date and we barely kissed and he got Ju to kick me out.”
“You went on a date?”
“Yeah…”
“Was that before or after we started fucking.”
Max scoffed.
“Started fucking? A few anonymous hookups with a hot stranger isn’t exactly enough for me to put my life on hold.”
“So after.”
“Yeah. After.”
My face turned red. From the moment I first held Max, pressing him against the bathroom wall, putting my lips on his neck and feeling him kiss me back, I hadn’t thought about anyone else. I couldn’t kiss or touch anyone. I couldn’t entertain the idea of another man. But he’d been dating. Fuck. I was so stupid.
“You’re angry?” He asked, a bemused tone in his voice.
“I’m not fucking angry.”
“Um, yeah you are. Why are you so mad? You’ve been on dates.”
“With women. It’s not the same thing.”
“Um. Yeah, it is the same thing. In fact, your thing is worse because dating women is totally fucking confusing and not just for me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snarled.
My hands clenched into fists and I wanted to slam them into the kitchen island or better, slam them into Max’s face. He watched my hands twitched, mischief glinting in his eye like he fucking enjoyed pissing me off. This was a sport for him.
“You are so fucking mad!” He gleefully proclaimed.
“Shut up, Max!”
“Or what? You’re going to give me a black eye? I’m not fucking scared of you, Tony.”
“You should be,” I said quietly, my voice growing icy as my fist unfurled.
“I didn’t know you’d get so jealous.”
“Who was the guy,” I demanded, “Tell me. Now.”
“Peter. The bartender.”
“Do you still talk to him?”
“Yes. We’re friends.”
Max backed off, discomfort written all over his face. Just friends? Was he lying? Was he just saying that because he was afraid of what I’d do to him.
“Tell me the truth.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Fuck…”
“Why are you so upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Oh, you’re just cherry red for no fucking reason, then?”
“It’s nothing.”
“You’re jealous.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Peter and I are just friends. You have nothing to worry about.”
He smirked, like he caught me with my pants down.
“I’m not worried about anything.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t give a shit who you date.”
“Good. Maybe I’ll bring a guy home off Grindr and you can listen to us fuck all night long.”
I rose and got close to Max, backing him into the wall, intimidating him, forcing him to acknowledge that no matter how much of an attitude he had, he didn’t want to mess with me.
“You do that and I’ll kick your ass.”
“Careful, Tony. I might think you’re catching feelings.”
“I’m not going to let you get sick to prove a fucking point.”
“So you care about me then?”
My fists clenched again. Fucking Max. The greatest pain in my ass.
“Why are you determined to piss me the hell off?”
“Because… you won’t admit that you fucking like me. And I’ve finally figured it out. You act like such a piece of shit because you like me.”
“Fuck off,” I breathed, bending down to kiss Patel on the lips.
18
MAX PATEL
His response confirmed what I knew. He liked me. Tony Stone liked me. He had no reason to be jealous of Peter, but jealousy coursed through his veins and he didn’t have the control to stop it. He grabbed my hips and pressed me against a wall. When he pulled away, he shook his head.
“I’m not jealous,” he muttered. Was he trying to convince me or himself?
“Yeah fucking right,” I whispered, kissing his shoulder.
Tony recoiled. Intimacy terrified him. Touching me. Knowing that I liked him. I never counted on him liking me back. Being with him was easier when everything was anonymous. When pulsing music drowned out my racing heart. When I didn’t have to worry about him liking me or not because I knew I was nothing more than a warm body for him to stick his cock into.
This… being stuck in his house like this made touching hi
m terrifying and exhilarating. Guys like Tony, when they come face to face with their feelings they run like hell. When I met him he was running. There was no reason for him to stop because of me.
“For the record, I treat you like shit because I can smell the clingy on you. You’d follow me around like a lovesick puppy and I’d fucking hate you for it.”
“Not anymore than I hate you.”
His hips pinned me to the wall, and his fingers tousled my hair. Firm fingers grasped at a handful of my hair and he tilted my head to the side, running his tongue along the length of my neck and collarbone before sucking on my flesh.
“Hate me or not, you’re still mine right now. I can fuck you when I want. How I want. And you’ll let me.”
“Envious and possessive. We have a winner.”
He grabbed my chin, releasing my hair and pressing his chest against mine. His heart fluttered in his chest, his skin warming to the touch.
“Don’t play games with me, Max. You won’t like what I do to win.”
“Whatever.”
“Tell me about Peter. Now.”
His eyes narrowed and a scarlet flush returned to his cheeks.
“What is there to tell?”
“How long did you date?”
“We went out on one date. Then I moved here. That’s it.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck!” Tony yelled, slamming his fist into the wall next to my head.
“Can you chill?”
“No. I can’t fucking chill. Not when you’re going around kissing and fucking I don’t know how many other guys.”
“We’ve been in the same apartment since quarantine started. That doesn’t leave me any time for these horrible whorish exploits you’re accusing me of.”
“I can’t stand the thought of you kissing another man.”
“I thought you weren’t jealous.”
“What if I was? Hm? What if I told you I wanted you here and I wanted you to be mine. Only mine. All mine.”
“I’d tell you you’re fucking crazy. And you’re only saying it because of some sick desire you have.”
“So what? You want me. I want you.”
“What are you asking me for?”
“Anything you want.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Quarantined With My Straight Roommate Page 8