“Fuck’s sake,” I muttered a few minutes later, crouching by my plastic desk chair as I wiped the surface with cleaning wipes.Why was it so goddamn hard to have a wank? This orgasm better be worth it.
Once the chair was clean, I stuck the dildo on, then gave my poor dick a few strokes to get it fully hard again. Not long now. Once I came, I’d finally be able to relax and go to sleep.
I swung a leg over the chair so I was hovering over it, facing the back, and slowly lowered myself until it was completely burrowed inside, forcing a low groan out of me.
Swallowing, I rose an inch, then sank down on the chair. My eyelids fluttered close as the dildo pressed against my prostate, sending electric sparks through my body.
Shit.
I lost all semblance of patience or self-control. Hands tight on the back of the chair, I rode the toy like my life depended on it, unable to stop myself from whimpering. My cock bounced all over the place, leaking pre-cum, and I wrapped one hand around it.
This was good. Really good. Sure, it wasn’t the same as having a warm body against you, hearing their unsteady breaths, looking into their eyes —
Don’t fucking think about that, Archie.
My chair was thudding against the floor, but it was probably muffled by the carpet, and in any case, I didn’t care. I clenched my jaw so I wouldn’t moan loudly, but it was hard to think too deeply when I was chasing an orgasm, which was growing inside of me, making the muscles in my thighs spasm…
Oh, god —
I sank down on the toy and shot everywhere, white painting my fingers and landing on the back of the chair. I couldn’t move for what felt like hours, shivering as the sensation rolled through me, then slowly faded away.
Carefully, I climbed off the toy, wincing at how empty I felt without it. God, I was a mess. Sticky and wet with cum and lubeand my hole felt tender and even my dick sort of hurt from how roughly I was stroking it.
Worth it, though.
I hastily cleaned up the mess I made, then collapsed on my bed, falling asleep immediately.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Fight
For once, I slept well, not dreaming about obsidian eyes and a deep, goading voice. In fact, I felt so rested, I was even humming to myself the following morning as I left my bedroom in my boxers, ready to start my day with four slices of Nutella toast.
Taylor was sitting at the coffee table, eating brown sludge. He didn’t look up as I came in. “Morning,” he said.
“Um, morning.” Weird. I popped slices of bread into the toaster, and poured myself a glass of milk as I waited.
Taylor was still looking down at the table. “What did you get up to last night?” His voice was strangely formal.
“Sleeping. What’s it to you?”
He met my gaze then. “Sorry for trying to make small talk.”
I laughed. “Yeah, okay,” I said. “You’ve never made small talk with me in our entire lives. It’s weird.”
“I’m trying to be polite,” he gritted out.
I laughed louder then. “Sure you are.”
“Stop being a dick.”
“Oh, I’m a dick?” I couldn’t stop laughing. This situation was actually absurd. “Let me give you a tip. Give up on the polite act. Better yet, just don’t talk to me, alright?”
“If we’re going to be roommates, we can at least be civil to each other.” His face was doing strange things. He looked bothfurious and…pleading. He was probably desperate to prove to himself he wasn’t a total asshole. It must’ve been an ego thing.
