#-16.5

You hated looking for roommates. More than the search for a liveable place, searching for roommates felt like a form of torture specially designed to make you want to peel the skin off your body. You were lucky enough to have found a good place in the city— A 3 bedroom townhouse in Manhattan, with 2.5 bathrooms — heavily subsidised because your (rich) friend’s great aunt Elsie was the landlord and she considered you family. You’d taken the bedroom with an en-suite and turned the basement room into a combined hobby room and spare room. The only problemhad been finding a good roommate. The world, you had learned, was full of weirdos.

Your first roommate was a girl you’d gone to university with. A good friend by all means; kind, funny and one hell of an agony aunt. She was just a horrendous roommate. She refused to wash her dishes, letting them pile up and simply using yours instead. She didn’t vacuum, didn’t clean her bathroom. This lasted for about a year but then a pair of your best lacy underwear had gone missing, and three weeks later you’d found it in your drawer with faint skid marks and the waist band somehow torn to shreds. You’d asked her to find somewhere else to live, and when she left she took half the friend group with her after calling you a “privileged brat who leveraged her connections to deprive her of shelter”.

The next roommate had lasted only 8 months, and she’d been clean, but couldn’t resist having her sleazy boyfriend over basically 24/7. When you’d told her that he needed to pay rent if he wanted to live with you she’d accused you of being jealous because your own love life was stagnant. For the two months after you’d told her this, it felt like she’d made a point of having the loudest, most obnoxious sex she could if she knew you were home. When you started finding sex toys in communal areas, you told Elsie what was going on and she was evicted almost immediately. You made sure she paid for a deep clean of her room and the living room before she got her security deposit back.

After her, your friend Yelena had moved in with her girlfriend Ava, and thankfully they’d been normal. No underwear heists, no obnoxious sex, no dirty dishes. You’d had a good four years of peace, but now that they were engaged, they were moving out to live on their own in a townhouse two houses over, gifted to her by her parents. You were happy for them, really, but God, you didn’t wanna have to look for a new roommate. It felt like everywhere you turned there were new stories about increasingly worse roommates and you dreaded having to look for one.

“I’m sure Elsie won’t make you cover the rent for the other room. She loves you more than she loves me at this point,” Yelena says, clicking through her half of the responses to the room ad you guys had posted. She’s on her third glass of wine, lying on the living room floor with her feet in Ava’s lap. You’ve got the AC cranked up, some old Britney music video currently playing on the TV. Ava hums in agreement, massaging her calves.

“It’s not that I don’t want to cover the rent. I don’t wanna live in a house with an empty room. Besides, I’m sure someone here will appreciate having to pay like a quarter of what they’d normally pay for a room like this. The problem is some of these people might be freaks,” you mumble as you read through your half of the responses to the room ad you posted on SpareRoom. “God I wish it wasn’t unethical to hunt down people’s social media. I feel like it would tell me a lot more than some of these profiles. These people didn’t even follow instructions,” you note, deleting a response from “Anna, 27, major hippie who just wants to put love into the world.”

The ad had specified that you needed to know what they did for work, why they were interested in living there, any hobbies they have, and whether or not they were allergic to cats. You’d put the ad up about a week ago, and received so many responses that you needed to private it so you could filter through these applications and get back to people in time for viewings on Saturday and Sunday. You’d already sent some responses back, but it was currently Wednesday and you knew you’d be cutting it close if you didn’t have all these responses back by tonight.

“Okay, this guy Julian is 43, divorced accountant who enjoys chick flicks, hiking and trying new recipes,” she says cocking an eyebrow. “And he’s kinda sexy in a silver fox way.”

“Probably looking for a rebound too,” Ava chimes in.

“Wow, that would be great if I was trying to fuck my roommate, but I’m not trying to do that. Because it’s messy,” you say. She sends him an invite to a viewing anyway.

“Her and I started as roommates, and look at us now,” Ava says, squeezing her calf.

You don’t have a rebuttal for that, but you hope they can feel you shaking your head disapprovingly anyways.

“Okay, this girl Mariya is 30, works in marketing, no cat allergy, loves festivals, baking and rock climbing and is part of a monthly book club celebrating marginalised voices in publishing,” you say. “She also has really cool eyeshadow,” you add as you copy-paste and then send the viewings invite message to her. You still have about twenty applications to get through, but you’re almost done. From the hundreds of responses you received, you’d managed to narrow it down to fifteen possible roommates. Not that it was hard. Any applicant that didn’t fully follow the instructions was discarded, which took out almost half the responses. Anyone under the age of 24 was discarded too. No hate to them, you just knew it wouldn’t be a good fit, especially if they were still undergrad.

“What about this one,” Yelena says sitting up. “His name is Bob, he’s 31. Online content creator, loves to read, no cat allergy, hates cooking but promises to always do the dishes, and wants to live here because it’s central, the house looks really beautiful and he thinks he’d really feel at home here. He’s also cute,” she says.

“What does ‘online content creator’ even mean,” Ava asks, “like TikTok influencer? He could be an incel twitch streamer.”

“Or he could be on booktok,” you offer.

“Yeah right. If it’s funding his lifestyle it’s either redpill bullshit or OnlyFans,” Ava bounces back.

“No stop it, he looks sweet. And what if he’s like… a Minecraft youtuber you know,” Yelena defends, sitting up and turning the laptop so both of you can have a look. He does look very sweet. It looks like he’s picked his best casual picture, dark brown (possibly honey blonde) hair peeking out from beneath a cap. He’s outside, book in hand giving the camera a nervous smile.

“Please, just because he looks sweet doesn’t mean he isn’t an incel,” Ava retorts.

“Let’s just give him a chance, if he has weird vibes when he views we can just bin his application,” you say.

“But then he’ll know where you live,” she says.

“Along with like 25 other people. Relax,” Yelena says squeezing her girlfriend’s thigh, “I just don’t get bad vibes from him,” she says, sending him the viewing invite message.

You guys fall into comfortable silence again, filtering through applications and occasionally asking for the others’ approval.

When you finish screening applicants, Yelena and Ava leave to go pick up some pizza while you respond to the people who have RSVP’ed for viewings. You guys had decided to conduct group viewings, with two slots on Saturday and two slots on Sunday. Of the 30 people who made the cut, 15 have replied, all spread across the Saturday. You’re about to shut your laptop down and go find yourself a pre-dinner snack when you hear your laptop chime.

Bob Reynolds:

hi, thanks for getting back to me. Happy to do Sunday @ 3, very excited to see the place and meet you :) thanks again, see you on Sunday, have a good rest of your week x.

You stare at the message for some time before responding.

You:

speedy! See you on Sunday, will be nice to meet you too, enjoy your week :).

By the time Sunday rolls around, you’re more exhausted than you feel you have any right to be. Between working, tidying up and helping Yelena pack and move, a deep ache has begun to settle into your bones. This exhaustion wasn’t helped by the fact that yesterday’s viewings had been a complete waste of time. Of the final 20 who had ended up being booked in for Saturday, only one of them had seemed promising until he started trying to haggle for your room, saying he’d much prefer the en suite to the empty bedroom you’d advertised. He’d then gone on to take a dig at the decor, lamenting the fact that it was quite girlish even though you hadn’t changed a single thing between posting the ad and inviting him for a viewing. The final straw had been him taking a dig at your hobbies, noting that the clay figurines you made didn’t look like they were made by someone who had been making clay figures for years. God forbid a girl have a hobby she was a little bad at. You’d endured with gritted teeth and a thin smile, sighing in relief when you finally shut the door behind him. You’d watched him walk away with a pep in his step, and then turned around to your friend and thrown your hands up in surrender.

“If I don’t find anyone tomorrow I’m living by myself, fuck it.”

Sunday’s quieter, only 10 people opting to give up their Sunday afternoon to come view. The first batch had been a group of seven, and while none of them were bad per se, they just didn’t seem enthusiastic about living there. One had even balked at the sight of your cat, despite said cat being in almost every picture on the listing. No one had asked questions, just nodded and followed you around.The three of you are sitting on the steps waiting for the final group to arrive, praying for a miracle.

The first person to arrive is Mariya, the rock climbing, festival going marketer. She looks pretty chill, coffee cup in hand, decked out in a dark blue sweat suit.

“Mariya? Hi,” you greet, sticking your hand out for a handshake. She pulls you in for a hug instead, not caring about the fact that you have completely tensed up in her arms.

“Oh my god it’s so great to meet you. I’m very excited to see the place,” she says to you, before looking around you to greet your friend and her fiancée. You don’t hear what she says to them, because soon after, Julian, the accountant arrives. He’s tall, and he is sexy in that silver fox way, but when he shakes your hand he holds on for a bit too long, the look he gives you a little too ‘nightclub at 2:34 am’. You pass him on to Yelena, keeping an eye out for Bob while he introduces himself. You feel your phone vibrate and you pull it out to check. It’s a message from Bob.

Bob Reynolds:

going to be 5 minutes late I’m so sorry I’m maybe three blocks away, got off at the wrong stop. I’m so sorry, I’ll be there soon.

You look at your watch. It’s not even 3 yet, just before, but you appreciate the heads up.

“We’re just waiting for one other person, he’ll be here soon. You guys can go inside if you like,” you say, scooping your cat off the steps and into your arms.

“I’ll wait out here with you,” Julian offers, reaching over to stroke your cat. He pulls his hand away when she hisses at him.

“Sorry, she takes time to warm up to strangers,” you say scratching under her chin.

Mariya disappears inside with Ava and Yelena, chatting their ear off about niche indie bands. The air outside is thick, the only thing more uncomfortable than the humidity being the way Julian looks at you like he’s giving you a once over, assessing you.

He speaks first.

“So why’s the rent so cheap? Your boyfriend’s parents own the place or something?”

You know what he’s doing, but you’re too tired to dodge the question.

“No boyfriend, just a generous landlord,” you answer, keeping your eyes glued to the cars whizzing past you on the street.

“Shit, what does he expect in return?”

“Well she is just looking for some extra money on the side because the mortgage is paid off, she’s old, and I know her great-niece,” you respond. You swivel your head, looking for Bob. It’s only just hit 3, so you know you have a little more time to wait. You wish he’d teleport.

“So no boyfriend then huh. Single, or is a pretty girl like you working with a roster?”

You want to vomit. You don’t think forty-three year old men should speak to you about your non-existent roster. You sigh, busying your hands with petting Angie while she pushes her head into your chest. You can feel him staring at you, just waiting for an answer. You check your watch. 3:02.

“Just not looking for anything right now, too busy,” you answer, and it’s half true. You weren’t looking for anything, but only because it felt like dating in today’s dating pool felt like swimming in shark infested waters.

“With what?”

You hear a record scratch in your head.

“Sorry?”

“What are you so busy with that you don’t have time to date?”

He’s still eyeing you up like a car on sale, and you almost open your mouth to tell him it’s not wise to leer at the person who decides whether he gets the room or not when you hear footsteps.

“I’m so sorry, I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” a voice pants.

You check your watch. 3:04.

“Technically, you’re early Mr. Five Minutes Late. Did you run here?” you ask when you see the way he’s doubled over, face flushed. As if suddenly aware that you’re looking, he straightens up, pushing his shoulders back. He’s taller than you expect. And broad. The shirt he wears is a little tight around the shoulders and chest and you have to stop yourself from staring for too long.

“I speed-walked,” he corrects.

“Glad you made it,” you reply, sticking your hand out for a handshake. He looks at your hand then shakes his head.

“Real sweaty hands, I’m sorry,” he grimaces.

You shrug. From behind you, Julian clears his throat.

“I’m Julian, nice to meet you,” he says. There’s an edge to his voice that nearly makes you roll your eyes.

“Uh, Bob?” Bob replies, gripping his hand in a handshake. Julian lets go almost immediately.

“Your hands are sweaty,” he says, almost sneering.

“I know, that’s why I warned her,” Bob says.

The two of them follow you inside, and you let Bob wash his hands in the guest bathroom while Julian joins everyone else in the kitchen.

“Thanks,” he says when he comes out, “do you want shoes on or off?”

He’s the first person to ask, and you make a mental note of this as you tell him not to worry.

“What’s her name?” he asks, motioning to Angie.

“Angie, short for Angelicat but we only call her that when she misbehaves,” you say.

He laughs, scratching under her chin. “Misbehaves? But she looks like such a good girl,” he coos. She purrs in response, lowering her head and flattening her ears, letting him pet her. “A very good girl,” he amends.

“Oh and you have good girl radar, then?”

He locks eyes with you, and you swear you feel the air get knocked out of you when he replies: “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

You’re suddenly aware of how close he’s standing and you feel heat creeping up your neck.

You clear your throat, motioning to the door into the living room/kitchen space.

“We should probably join the others.” You bend down to let Angie out of your arms, and when you stand up again, he’s holding the door to the living room open, soft smile on his face. When you walk past him into the living room, you pretend you don’t feel the undercurrent of tension between the two of you.

“They’re here,” Ava says almost immediately, interrupting whatever Julian was saying.

Bob flushes, raising a hand in greeting.

“Yelena, Ava, this is Bob. Bob, Yelena and Ava,” you introduce, “They’re the ones abandoning me,” you say to the whole room. There’s an “ah” that ripples across the room as everyone gathers around for the tour.

“Right so, this is the kitchen,” you say, motioning to the kitchen, “it’s pretty new. Our landlord put in new appliances just over a year ago, everything runs like a dream. Lots of cupboard space,” you say opening up the cupboards to show everyone. “Any cookware you need for cooking or baking is here, but if you have your own stuff you’d be more than welcome to bring it,” you say as you shut the cupboard doors.

You move from the kitchen into the dining area, showing everyone the dining table you only really used when you had guests. You take them out the double french doors to the backyard. It’s open, with a stone path down the middle splitting the perfectly manicured lawn in two. “We spend most weekends out here in the summer, but we have gas patio heaters for winter too.”

“And a mini firepit,” Yelena adds.

“And a mini firepit. We get the grass mowed every two weeks?" You look to Yelena for confirmation, and she nods. “Every two weeks, but the cost is built into your rent so you don’t have to worry about it. I’m not much of a gardener, but if you have a green thumb you’re more than welcome to have a go at planting stuff if you feel like it. Landlord doesn’t mind as long as you don’t completely tear the place up.”

You let everyone have a look around the backyard, leaving space for any questions. Bob comes up to you, hands in his pocket.

“Good place,” he says, “lot more space than it looks like from the other side.”

“I know, I got real lucky with this place,” you say.

He looks like he wants to say something else but everyone is coming back, so he just holds the french doors open for you, letting you back into the house.

When everyone’s back inside you take them to the living room. “Big living room, nice bay window. The TV has Netflix, Prime, any other streaming service you might be willing to share,” you say to a couple of laughs. “Any questions before we move on to the next rooms?”

“Yeah,” Julian pipes up, “what are expectations around feeding the cat and looking after it.”

“You won’t need to worry about that I’ll do it,” you answer.

With no more questions, you guys move into the entrance way. You show the the guest toilet by the stairs and then lead them down into the basement where the hobby room is.

“So this is the hobby room, but there’s so much space it doubles as a spare room too,” you indicate, pointing at the twin bed in the corner. “Feel free to use it as an office, if you need to. If you don’t wanna share a desk with me and my crafts we can a hundred percent move another desk in here without compromising too much on space.”

You let everyone have a look around again, and you see Julian nudge Bob, and then hear him make a comment about the clay crafts, something about them being juvenile. Bob doesn’t respond, just leans down to pet Angie, who has been laying in the office chair. He stops to walk over to you, and she leaps off the chair walking with him, butting against his legs until he leans down to pick her up.

“Needy girl aren’t you?”

She just purrs in response, closing her eyes and settling in his arms.

“If I moved in and I wanted to use this room for making videos, would that be okay? I figure it might be a bit better… noise wise than using the bedroom… if I moved in.”

He sounds so nervous it’s endearing.

“Yeah, hundred percent. I’d probably just need an idea of when you were using it so that I don’t interrupt your filming.” You bite back the urge to ask him what kinds of videos he makes, but you decide that he’s definitely not an incel.

“How come you’re not renting this out as a bedroom?” Mariya asks. She has one of your clay figurines in hand and you swear you see her almost slip into her pocket before she realises you’re watching.

“I used to work from home and it was good having a designated office space. When I went back to the office I just didn’t see the need to turn it into a bedroom,” you shrug, leading everyone out. You take them back into the entryway, then up the flight of stairs to second floor, where the bedrooms and bathrooms are. You show them the bathroom first, pointing out the big sink and cabinet space. There’s a bath tub and a separate shower. The shower is spacious too, and you hear Julian make a crack about there being room for two. No one laughs, and you feel your skin crawl.

“Right, and this is the room,” you announce, nudging the door open with your hip. It’s empty, save for the bed, TV, and a couple of boxes Yelena hasn’t moved yet. “Lots of natural light, big closet. Enough space for a desk if you feel like you don’t wanna work downstairs. You do need to be careful when changing because the window looks out onto the street so y’know,” you mention.

“Does the cat come in here often? It’s just that I own some mice and I’d prefer not to have keep them in a cage all day and I need to be able to guarantee their safety,” Mariya asks.

“It should be no problem if you keep the door closed when you’re not home. But telling her she can’t come into the room will be fine too. She listens.”

You look over at her, still in Bob’s arms, eyes closed, purring softly. Mariya looks like she’s considering this information and she just nods, continue to poke around the room.

“What’s it like in winter?” Julian asks. “Temperature wise.”

“It’s good! Pretty well insulated, but there’s a remote for temperature control on the wall. Also really well ventilated, so doesn’t get damp,” you smile, leading everyone out.

“My room is down the other end of the hall, so you also have a fair amount of privacy,” you add on, sneaking a glance at Bob.

“What’s the policy on partners?” Mariya asks, “Like can we have them over, or do they have to be gone by the end of the night?”

“They can stay over, it’d just be great if they’re not sleeping over practically everyday. And you know, you’d have to be mindful, keep the volume down, limit intimacy to your bedroom, that type of thing.”

“You’ve had a roommate who was intimate with their partner outside of their bedroom?” Bob asks, incredulous.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” you say.

“Could be kinda hot,” you hear Julian say and you watch Bob grimace.

You usher everyone back downstairs, fielding the last of the questions and letting them know that you’re happy chat some more and to reach out over SpareRoom if they have any more questions. Mariya leaves pretty much immediately, but the two men stay, keeping the conversation casual. You’re on your third sexually charged comment from Julian when Bob puts Angie down.

“We should probably let you guys get some rest. Big decisions to make,” he says, heading towards the door. He looks expectantly at Julian who finally seems to get a hint for the first time that day.

You’re standing on the steps after saying goodbye when Bob stops in the middle of the sidewalk, and comes back, standing at the bottom of the steps.

“Look, obviously I’m biased, and obviously you’re an adult and this is your home, but please tell me you aren’t considering giving the room to him,” he nods in the general direction of where Julian went, “like good grief.”

He looks genuinely concerned, and you make a note of that too.

“Don’t worry he’s not even a contender, thanks for the concern though.”

He sighs in relief then waves back at you as he starts his journey home. You don’t need to think about it, you know who’s getting the room.

“Do we need to relist the room?” Yelena asks when you’re back inside.

“Nope, giving it to Bob,” you say throwing yourself on the couch.

“What? You weren’t charmed by Julian and his overt advances? Didn’t wanna play with Mariya and her mice?” Ava says.

You shoot, “Literally what was up with that? What do you mean you don’t keep your mice in a cage and why would you apply to a house with a cat?”

You guys laugh, settling in for a movie. You’re gonna miss this, you think. Movie nights with the two of them. You know they’re only moving a couple of houses down, but it’s not the same.

“You know you don’t have to decide today, right?” Yelena says to you, briefly taking her eyes off the screen to look at you.

“I know, but I think he’ll be good. Doesn’t give off incel vibes, was really polite the entire time and Angie already likes him. Literal miracle.”

“And she thinks he’s cute,” Ava says, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

“Irrelevant. Completely irrelevant,” you mutter, “I’m gonna go send the rejection messages for everyone else, I’ll be back in like 15 minutes,” you say heading upstairs to your bedroom.

You open your laptop, copying the rejection message from your notes and mass sending it to everyone who made the viewing but Bob. Some people reply immediately, thanking you for showing them around anyways and wishing you the best. Julian tacks on a ‘we may not have worked out as roommates but I’d be interested in hanging out anyways’ and you don’t even respond, just report him to SpareRoom.

You open up the chat with Bob, where there’s already a message waiting for you.

Bob Reynolds:

thank you for having me, great to meet you guys, especially Miss Angie :) give her head pats for me, please!

You:

No worries, thanks for showing up! And pending a successful reference check and a security deposit (3 months rent upfront), you’ll be able to give her head pats yourself when you move in :) congrats!

The response is immediate.

Bob Reynolds:

wow thank you so much! Didn’t expect to hear back so quick :) appreciate it, thank you so much future roomie. have a good week!

☆

Bob’s references all come back clean, and he moves in pretty much immediately after he pays his deposit, only a week after he viewed the place. Any nerves you had about him as a roommate dissipate after less than a month of living with him. He’s tidy and sweet, always does the dishes (even yours). You guys have fallen into a Saturday cleaning routine, with him handling upstairs (besides your room and bathroom), the living room and the guest toilet. You take the kitchen and hobby room, always taking extra care not to mess with Bob’s filming equipment. He’s got at least three expensive looking cameras, some microphones and a bunch of lights. You’re not sure you’d be able to replace anything if you broke it. You still don’t know what he posts, just that he’s normally alone when he films. If he’s not alone, his friend Joaquin is there, though that doesn’t happen often since he’s currently living in DC. He also sometimes has a girl over, pretty brunette who always lets you know that she loves your cute mugs and one day she might steal your cat. You haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks though. You wonder who she is. At first you’d thought she was his girlfriend, but when you’d said as much in passing, Bob had seemed perplexed, rushing to tell you that they weren’t together.

“I just know her through work,” had been his exact words.

By the time Bob has been there for six months it’s mid November and the whole world is getting ready for the holidays. The cold weather has both of you inside a lot more, choosing cozy movie nights over going out. Sometimes you ended up making dinner for the both of you, turning Bob into the perfect guinea pig for recipes you found online. Tonight was one of those. Dinner had been a pad thai approximation, a little suspect at first, but delicious after some wine. You guys were now seated in the living room, both on opposite ends of the three seater couch as some forgotten raunchy comedy played on the screen. You must be feeling confident after the wine because you turn to him, pushing his foot with your own.

He cocks an eyebrow, confused.

“I have a question,” you get out, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. “Your online video stuff. What is it?”

He relaxes.

“Oh I was wondering when you’d ask me,” he says. He sits up properly, facing you. “You actually lasted a lot longer than I thought you would to be fair. What do you think I do?”

“Well, I figure you’re a gaming streamer or something, but for cozy games, I can’t see you playing shooter games.Or maybe you’re on booktok or booktube. Yelena thinks gamer too. Ava thought you were either an incel,” you watch his eyebrows shoot up, “or OnlyFans. I don’t see it,” you say downing the rest of your wine. You should probably slow down, but you need the courage.

“You don’t think I can do OnlyFans?”

“Well, anyone can do OnlyFans it’s just you seem so… not an OnlyFans guy, I feel like they’re cockier.”

“Well Ava is right. I have an OnlyFans,” he admits. He’s trying to play it nonchalant but you can see the flush creeping up his neck. “Is that an issue? Should I have said something on my application? I know people can get a bit weird about it and-”

“Oh my god, no,” you rush to cut him off, “it’s not an issue you’re more than welcome to do whatever you want. I just never would’ve guessed because you’re so … quiet. And I figured you’d have more girls in and out for that kind of thing,” you say.

He laughs. “Nah. I do a lot of solo stuff. Sometimes I do collabs but uh, the girl I normally work with can’t work with me anymore, so solo until I find someone new,” he explains.

“Cool. How did you get into it?” You can’t stop yourself from asking.

“Started off on a cam site actually. Needed a lot of money fast and an old friend suggested it. I was pretty successful there and when OnlyFans started getting popular I moved there, gave me a bit more flexibility in terms of content.”

“Fully understand. University can be so expensive,” you say getting up to go refill your wine.

“Not university. I was funding my meth habit,” he says. It’s so casual you almost drop the bottle of wine.

“Meth?!”

“Yeah. It was a little rough for me.”

“You don’t look like you do meth,” you say when you sit back down, wine in hand.

“That’s because I’ve been sober for years now. What does a meth head even look like?” he asks, incredulous.

“Less teeth, I don’t know,” you say. You feel flustered. You mull your next question over carefully.

“Do you still stream?”

He tilts his head, curious. “Occasionally.” There’s a pause. “Why, d’you wanna watch?”

You almost choke, and he reaches over to pat you on the back, an amused smile plastered across his face.

“No.”

Yes.

“No harm in asking. Now I wanna know something.” He’s shifting nervously now, all the confidence he had prior seemingly vanishing. “Would you ever make an OnlyFans?”

You pause, thinking, and apparently that’s all the time he needs to start backtracking, apology spilling out of his mouth.

“Oh my god, relax. I’m not uncomfortable I’m just thinking. Knee jerk reaction? No. But I think if I could make content without showing my face I would try? I don’t know just the thought of looking at my own body doing… stuff… wigs me out a little.”

“So you don’t care that much about other people seeing you that way?”

“If I’m making bank?No; obviously it’s gonna be a little nerve-wracking at first but realistically? I would probably get over it after I got that first deposit. And again, no one would know it’s me. I’d be faceless.”

“Interesting. Follow up. Let’s say, hypothetically, a guy was looking for a girl, just for the moment because he promised his subscribers something special for Christmas, would you be down? Obviously you’d get paid, fifty percent of the profits-”

“You think I’d make a profit?” you interrupt.

“I never said it was me but,” he leans back and looks you over, nice and slow, “yeah, you’d make a profit.”

Your grip on the wine glass tightens, just a little. He doesn’t stop looking, his eyes resting where your legs disappear into your pyjama shorts, then travelling further up until he’s making eye contact with you.

“Uh, well,” you try to gather your thoughts, “I-I mean, hypothetically, as long as this guy wasn’t making me do anything insane I could probably give it a go. I’m not opposed, I’d probably have to think about it.”

You’re nodding your head so much you think you might shake something loose. He just laughs.

“I’ll let you think then,” he says, turning his attention back to the TV.

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he doesn’t say anything else.

On Monday evening you’re having dinner with Yelena and Ava, the three of you sitting at the dinner table for once, indulging in your weekly gossip session. You’ve just filled them in on your Friday conversation with Bob, and Ava is practically howling with glee.

“I told you guys, I told you. OnlyFans or incel!” she exclaims, punctuating her outburst with a strong slap of the table.

“I just don’t get it. He’s so twitchy sometimes when we’re around, and you’re telling me he gets on camera and has sex? He apologises to Angie when he has to stop petting her. I don’t see it,” Yelena argues.

“It doesn’t matter what you see, clearly he’s a different guy on camera. Have you had a look yet?” Ava asks.

Both her and Yelena are looking at you expectantly.

“No, I haven’t had a look yet. Not going to have a look in the future either. That would be weird, he’d think I’m weird,” you say.

You’d thought about it though. A lot. You were curious, no point lying about it, but you didn’t even know what his username was and you really didn’t want to ask. It felt pervy.

“Weirder than him asking if you want to guest star on his account?” Ava fires back.

You shush her, afraid Bob might come home and hear you guys discussing his work life.

“Well she’s gonna say no anyways. Remember she doesn’t fuck roommates,” Yelena points out.

There’s a beat of silence where Ava and Yelena turn to look at you, and then:

“No way. She’s considering it,” Ava says, “like actually considering it.”

“It would be a once off, and I’d make some money maybe. That’s it,” you mumble.

“You know, it’s okay to say you think he’s hot and you wanna sleep with him. He’s totally your type,” Yelena drones, “we will not judge you.”

“Well, yeah I also think he’s hot and I wanna sleep with him, sue me!”

You hear the front door open, and the three of you rush to find a topic of conversation that isn’t your OnlyFans model roommate and the possibility of starring in a video.

When Bob comes into view he’s soaked, his shirt clinging to him like a second skin. Holy shit, he’s got muscle under there? you think. You feel Ava nudge you under the table and she mouths ‘you’re staring’ when you turn to her in confusion. You feel your face get hot and watch her smirk, smug.

“Hi guys. It’s raining out there.” He sounds dazed. “Did anyone know it was going to rain?” he asks, “sorry, I’m getting water everywhere, shit,” he mutters as he puts grocery bags on the kitchen counter. “Fuck, I’ll clean it up, just let me get changed first, or maybe unpack the groceries?”

“I can do the groceries, go get warm,” you say, getting up from your spot at the table.

“On that note, we’ll get going before the rain picks up even more,” Yelena says, helping Ava up from her seat.

“Oh you guys don’t have to go,” Bob starts, falling silent when Yelena raises an eyebrow.

You start unpacking the groceries Bob got, and when you’re done you mop the floor. You’ve just finished mopping when you hear him come back. His hair is still damp, and he’s in an oversized grey sweater and sweatpants.

“Oh. I would’ve done that,” he says when he comes back downstairs.

“You can do it next time the rain catches you off guard,” you say as you put the mop out to dry. “You eaten?”

“Yeah, grabbed some food when I was out, thanks. What’d you guys have?”

You watch him pick Angie up gently from where she’s napping on the couch so that he can sit down. She settles back into his lap and falls asleep again when he starts gently dragging his knuckles between her ears. You cant help but notice how big his hands are, how gentle.

“Hello?” you hear him say, and you snap out of it. “Lost you for a minute there,” he says when you can finally look him in the eye. “Dinner?”

“Oh uh, mashed potatoes and steak. By me,” you answer.

“Bet it tasted real good then,” he says. The way he says it reminds you of the day he came to view the house, after he’d washed his hands. Something hidden, dangerous, lurking beneath an innocent comment. Or maybe you just really want to fuck him and you’re projecting. It doesn’t matter, all you know is that it makes you feel a good sort of funny. It makes you start imagining what it might be like to hear him say that to you under less platonic circumstances.

“Uh, y-yeah, yes. Tasted real good,”you manage, scrambling to piece your brain back together.

“I’ll have to try it someday.” His voice is low, almost a whisper as he breaks eye contact to plant a kiss on Angie’s head. You swear you can feel the air between you fizzing.

“Um. About that thing we spoke about on Friday,” he starts, still looking at Angie, “if the guy showed you the type of videos he makes, would that help you make a decision?”

That sucks the air out of your lungs and all you can do is nod.

“Cool, I’ll get on that,” he says. “Wanna watch a movie?” he smiles at you, moving over so there’s space on the couch. Against your better judgement you grab one of the blankets that has temporarily moved into the living room and settle in next to him. In an attempt to act normal you make sure you’re not too close, but not too far. Unfortunately the blanket you’ve picked up is a little on the small side so you end up sitting so close to him that your knees bump every time you shift.

You don’t know what you’ve chosen to watch, because all you can do is think about what he might choose to show you. You can’t focus on the screen when your thighs bump against each other and he’s apologising, low. It’s literally taking everything in you not to lean in further.

What on earth were you getting yourself into?

At lunch time on Wednesday you get a message from Bob.

Bob ☀️

12:00pm: hi. got something for you. 12:00pm: goldenboy has gifted you a free subscription to his profile. Join here: https://onlyfans.com/goldenboy. enter the code 12FREE when prompted at checkout. 12:03pm: sorry, probably shoulda picked a better time hahaha. sorry. for whenever you have time.

You see him typing for the next five minutes, the bubble with three dots appearing and disappearing and reappearing multiple times before you finally get a message.

Bob ☀️

12:08pm: hope you enjoy it :]!!

You spend the rest of the day uncomfortable, unfocused. How are you supposed to draft emails when he’s just said he hopes you enjoy seeing him naked.

When you get home you head straight to your room. You know Bob’s home because you can hear the soft murmurs of the TV from his room when you walk past. You head straight to your computer, entering the link he sent you into your browser’s search bar. His profile comes up and it feels like you’re looking at someone totally different. There’s a lazy grin plastered across his face, and the sleeves on his shirt are pushed all the way up. He’s got his arm behind his head, flexing the muscle in the most casual way possible. He’s wearing a backwards trucker cap, and you can see the way his hair peaks from beneath it, curling at the edges. It’s gold where the sunlight washes over it. His banner is him in nothing but some black briefs, the outline of his dick pressing against the material. That’s got to be an optical illusion or something, you think, feeling the saliva pool in your mouth.

You feel like you’re in a haze as you sign up. When it prompts you to set a name, you mull it over for some time before settling on the name Angelicat. You want him to know you’re here. After verifying your account, you head over to his profile again, subscribing and then browsing through the stuff he’s already posted. There are a lot of photos of him in various states of undress, taken from different angles with different poses. Sometimes he’s even in costume. You’re partial to the raunchy firefighter calendar shoot photos he has up. He’s flexing in ridiculous ways and he looks so confident, sure of himself. You click on a video. The thumbnail is him, sitting in a chair wearing nothing but some boxers. The video is titled “STREAM HIGHLIGHTS: FRIDAY 04/26/2024”. It’s only 30 minutes long. You have 30 minutes. You turn on your bluetooth headphones and connect to your laptop, hitting play immediately. His voice is in your ears immediately, low and husky. He’s talking to the chat, asking if they missed him. He’s palming himself over his boxers and you watch, thighs clenched together. As the video goes on, you listen to him sweet talk his viewers, telling the regulars he missed them, calling them by name. You watch as it skips ahead to a clip of him with his boxers off, briefs pushed down just enough for him to pull his cock out. It’s not an optical illusion. He’s thick, long and oh so hard, the tip leaking precum. He reaches over and pulls a bottle of lube out, popping the lid open and squeezing some into his hand. He wraps his hand around his cock and pumps slowly. He’s swearing, eyes fluttering shut, asking everyone if this is what they wanna see. There’s another cut, and suddenly he’s using a fleshlight, thanking a subscriber for the gift, telling them it’s perfect and he feels so good. There’s one more cut, and he’s asking you to cum with him, his thighs tensing as he finishes, spilling into his hand. It ends there. You immediately click out, looking for more. He’s got multiple stream highlights. In some of them, he’s in costume, a request or a reward for a paticular milestone. The really popular ones are the ones where he takes instructions from the viewers. The most popular ones are the ones where he edges himself, eventually begging the viewers to let him cum.

When you think you’ve had your fill of solo videos you finally click on a video labelled “Hot Soccer Player lets Hung Nerd Creampie Her for Study Notes [COLLAB WITH SPORTSBUNNY]”. The pretty brunette you’d sometimes seen around is in the thumbnail in a too tight soccer shirt, eyes staring seductively into the camera from between Bob’s legs. You click play. You sit through a jaw-droppingly corny roleplay where she pretends she really needs his notes to pass this semester, the two of them going back and forth before she offers to not just let him fuck her, but finish inside. Must be some crazy good notes, you think, unwilling to suspend disbelief. When they agree, he pulls her into his lap. Tells her how beautiful she is, slots his lips over hers. It’s not long before they’re both moaning into each other’s mouths, Bob’s hands resting on her hips so he can grind her against him. They detach, only so they can both remove their shirts and you feel something in your stomach clench when he flips her over easily, kissing down her chest. There’s a tent in his pants as he moves down, kissing down her body, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and underwear, and slipping them both off.

“Let me eat you out,” you hear him say, almost panting. You just hear her respond with a breathy yes, and for maybe the fourth time that night you’re absolutely stunned as you watch him pretty much dive in, hungry. You feel yourself ache when he sucks on her clit, muttering about how sweet she tastes, how he’s obsessed. Calls her a slut when she takes two of his fingers easily, and he shushes her when she whines. He alternates between sucking on her clit and lapping at her, the sounds obscenely wet. When he comes up briefly, his chin is glistening and his eyes are bright. His hair sticks up at funny angles where she’s been gripping it. He continues the slow pump of his fingers in and out of her, ignoring the way she begs him to go faster. You watch as he angles them so that the camera can see the way he fingers her better. She’s practically dripping and the sound it makes as he pumps in and out of her is so obscene you apologise to no one in particular.

“Shit, she’s so wet for me, you like that Bunny?”

She’s just mumbling, panting and keening as he continues, dipping his head back between her thighs. Soon she’s moaning, telling him she’s about to cum, and he encourages her, breathless, whispering against her clit, fingers still moving. He only slows down when she arches up pretty violently, his free hand flying up to steady her. You completely block out the next chunk of the video because your mind is stuck on the way he ate her out, wet and insistent. The way his fingers pressed into her and he seemed to enjoy feeling her buck against his lips, begging him for more. The way he had to adjust himself every time she said please. The way he didn’t give in until the very end. You can feel yourself aching, a reminder that you hadn’t gotten laid in over a year. When you tune back in he has her on her hands and knees, camera focused on where her ass is currently slamming into his hips, one of his hands on her hips guiding it. You’re struck by how big his hand is on her, how strong it looks as he guides her back and forth, unrelenting. He’s vocal, constantly encouraging her, telling her she can take it, that she just needs to hold on a little longer and then suddenly his hips still and you can hear him let out a broken moan. When he pulls out, the camera pans down to her lips as he spreads them, making you watch as he spills out of her before he takes his fingers and uses it to push the mess back inside, all the while telling her what a good girl she is, how well she’s done for him.

You exit out of the video. You don’t know how long you spend scrolling through his other videos, but by the time you finally exit out of his profile it’s like you can vividly see and feel him on you. You can see the way his hands slide over his scene partners’ bodies, strong and firm, keeping them where he needs them. You can see the way he moves and bends them to his will, putting them in whatever position he needs them to be. You can imagine all the ways you’ve seen him eating them out; sometimes they’re on their backs, sometimes he convinces them to sit on his face, other times he bends them over and eats it from the back, a hand on the small of their back to steady them. Every time, he makes them cum, guaranteed.

You check your phone. It’s almost 9pm, and you haven’t had dinner yet. You feel slightly ashamed of yourself, but that’s replaced by that familiar curl of lust when you see that Bob messaged you.

Bob ☀️

6:39pm: I like your display name. Does that mean ur gonna misbehave then?

You giggle. You can’t believe he even remembers that, the viewing feels like so long ago.

You:

8:47pm: No, just wanted your attention :). I’ll do it, but you need to promise to keep my face either off-camera or blurred.

You hit send before you can second guess yourself. Your phone chimes immediately.

Bob ☀️

8:47pm: Well you’ve definitely got my attention. Thanks you’re a lifesaver xx 8:49pm: I take it you liked what you saw then? Any favorites?

You do have a favorite. It’s a video of him and a model — not SportsBunny — in front of the camera as she sits on his face, back to the camera. He’s just in his briefs, and his bulge is pretty much front and center. You can see him getting harder as the video goes on, as he grinds her into his face and licks and sucks enthusiastically. He doesn’t even need to touch himself, you just watch as his abs and thighs tense and a telltale wet patch spreads across his front. You think you’ve watched it at least three times.

You

8:51pm: please just be happy with the fact that I’ve been stuck in a goldenboy rabbit hole (interesting name). I’ve gotta have some decorum.

Bob ☀️

8:51pm: lol okay i’ll take it. 8:58pm: if you decide you’re done having decorum we can always do a test run. just to make sure i’ve got a good set up you know, like a dress rehearsal. if you don’t like it we don’t have to film the real thing :)

You

8:59pm: when?

You want to do the test run. Why pretend otherwise? You’ve already committed to being in a video, why not see what you’re gonna be working with?

Bob ☀️

9:01pm: today. give me 30 minutes to set up downstairs. does that work?

You send a heart react. You can hear the faint creak of his door opening almost immediately and you feel your stomach turn, suddenly nervous. You know that it’s one thing to sleep with him, another thing completely to do it on camera for an audience. What if you looked back at the footage and you totally sucked; moaned too loud, or sounded too fake. You realise that you haven’t changed since you got back from work, and once again you feel a little ashamed of yourself for letting peeking through your roommate’s OnlyFans distract you from your daily routine. You take a quick shower, slipping into a cotton shirt and shorts, and deciding to go downstairs and see if you can fix yourself a quick bite before you have to go down to the hobby room.

When you get downstairs, there’s a container of fried rice with a sticky note attached. In thin, sprawling handwriting, you see the words “didn’t hear you in the kitchen, ordered Chinese and got you fried rice, hope that’s okay - Bob”. You smile to yourself, ignoring what you suspect are butterflies, and heat up a little bit of the fried rice, grateful. You take your time eating, letting yourself settle a little bit before you head down to the basement. He’s in there, sat at your hobby desk, shirtless and distracted by his phone when you walk in. He looks up when he hears the door click behind you and smiles, putting his phone face down on your desk.

You can’t help but stare, first at the broad planes of his shoulder, then down to his abs, much more defined than you’d imagined. Seeing him like this in person feel so much more breathtaking than seeing it through a screen. You let your eyes follow the trail of golden brown hair disappearing into his sweatpants, snapping back up when you see the shape of him along his thigh.

Jesus Christ, it was actually real.

“You okay? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, really, my subscribers will be okay if they get this a little late, it’s all good I really don’t mind.”

“You’re so different on camera,” you mumble.

“Sorry?”

“Never mind. I’m fine really, just tell me what to do,” you say.

He motions towards a divider that’s been put up in the middle of the room, “Ladies first,” he says, standing as you pass him. You feel him behind you, hands ghosting over your waist as he ushers you into the mini studio he has set up. This half of the hobby room feels like a different world. There are posters on the wall that you recognise from his videos, and he’s got a mirror near the foot of the spare bed. He has a camera set up on a tripod, and you can see the red recording light blinking. Propped up on a mini table, out of view of the camera is a tablet playing a livestream of what the camera is recording. He has a hand held camera on the bedside table, red light also flashing. You see what you assume is a bluetooth remote on the bed, and you also notice that it’s brighter in this half of the room thanks to a set of lights he has in each corner.

“I don’t normally film my own stuff, but figured this would be more comfortable for you, since you’re not… you don’t do this.”

“I didn’t realise you had a camera man,” you say, more to yourself than him.

“Yeah. You’ve met him before. Joaquin. Real cool dude. Helped me get started on OF; let me pay him peanuts for filming some of my first collabs.”

He’s pressing himself closer to you, pushing you towards the bed. When you guys get there, he turns you around, pushing you so you’re sitting down. You feel the bed dip as he sits down next to you. He tilts your head so you’re looking at him.

“Don’t worry about the cameras, that’ll be my job. Look, if…if this makes you too nervous I can-”

You pull him into you, cutting him off with a kiss.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, I’m a grown woman who made this choice by myself. Stop worrying about me,” you say.

He seems to snap into focus, the air between you charged as he leans back in, pressing his lips to yours. He pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling him, detaching briefly to stare at you with stormy eyes. You’re breathing hard, and his hands move around you, slipping under the hem of your shorts to cup your ass. He squeezes.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth. “So soft,” he says into your shirt, kneading the flesh of your ass. His voice is so husky it’s almost unrecognisable. “I have to ask you. When was the last time you got tested?”

He’s still kneading, and it makes it hard to focus on what he’s asking. One of his hands moves to cradle your face, tilting it slightly so you’re looking at him when he asks again: “When was the last time you got tested?”

“Um, a year and a half ago I think. I’m clean. I haven’t had sex since,” you admit, embarrassed. He smiles, hand moving down to the side your neck, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Sorry to hear that,” he mumbles before he’s kissing you again, sucking on your bottom lip, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He repositions you so he’s got a thigh between your legs, and he’s holding you against him firmly when he pulls away again. “Hard nos? Anything you won’t do at all?”

He’s still using his free hand to move you against his thigh and you can’t think when you feel the muscle underneath you, dragging against your core. His other hand is under your chin, making sure you look at him. You’re doing everything you can to stop your brain turning into mush.

“Anal, no choking… I don’t mind a hand around my throat as long as you don’t squeeze. Um, I don’t think I can give you head yet-”

“Yet? So it’s in my future then?” He’s smiling at you, but there’s something dark in his eyes and you can feel your stomach tighten.

Maybe, you think. What comes out of your mouth is a shaky “Yeah.” Fantastic collaboration between your brain and your mouth once again.

“Anything else?” he mumbles, dipping his head to kiss at your jawline.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so,” you manage to get out.

He’s on you again pretty much instantly, hand coming down from your face to paw at your tits over your shirt. He pulls away from you briefly, hands feeling around the bed before he has the remote in hand. He’s eyeing the screen of the tablet and you can see the camera lens zooming in. Then he’s turning you — just a little — so that the camera has a better view. He’s back on you, kissing down your neck; one hand rocking you against his thigh gently, the other pushing the hem of your t-shirt up. You instinctively turn away from the camera when you feel the cold air over your chest.

“No, no honey it’s alright, c’mon let the camera see, they’re so perfect, ” he’s saying as he adjusts you again. He’s dipping his head, taking one of your nipples in your mouth, flicking his tongue over your nipple until it pebbles. His hand work the other one, before he adjust you slightly so he can wrap his mouth around the other one. He’s groaning into your chest, and when he pulls away with a light ‘pop!’, he looks at you. “Can I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the hem of your shirt slightly. You just nod, lifting your arms to make it easier for him. “Fuck, there we go. So much better for me,” he sighs as he nips at the flesh around your nipple, running his tongue over immediately after to soothe it. He still has a hand cupping your ass, moving you against his thigh where you can feel him hardening, even through the layer of your shorts and his sweats. it’s so dizzying that you need to put a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. You’re whimpering, and you can feel him smiling against your chest when your thighs tense around his.

He detaches so he can lay you on the bed, and then he reaches over for the camcorder.

“Hold this for me, just point it at me, try keeping it steady.” He’s smiling into your skin as he kisses a path down your stomach. You’re watching him through the monitor as he licks along your waistband, electrifying. You feel stuck in place when he takes it between his teeth, pulling it down slightly, using his hands to get it down the rest of the way. He lets out a low whistle when he see the underwear you’re wearing. A very thin, very lacy lavender number that you’d pretty much given up on ever using. “You got dressed up for me?” he says, adjusting you, spreading your legs so that the main camera can see you better. You look up from the camcorder monitor briefly, checking the tablet. There’s an obvious wet spot, and if not for Bob holding you open, you would’ve snapped your thighs together. “Oh my god, you’re so hot,” he’s mumbling into the skin of your thighs, his knuckle grazing over the wet spot softly. “You good up there with my camera?” he asks, staring at you through the camcorder. You just nod. It’s taking all you have to hold it steady, and you can feel that resolve waning as he keeps running his knuckle over your clothed slit, so gentle but you still feel like you’re on fire. “Mmmm, good. You’re so good for me,” he says. he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, near your knee. Then another one, slightly higher. And another, moving up, peppering you with kisses until he’s right over that wet spot. He looks at you through the camera as he just… breathes over it. He uses his knuckle to push at your clothed slit and the pressure makes you buck your hips up and whine. “Easy. You’re so fucking sensitive. It’s really been over a year?” You just nod. You don’t think you can speak. When he presses his thumb over your clothed clit you whine, an embarrassing high-pitched sound that makes him smile.

He leans down again and places his mouth over you, still looking at you through the camera. “Holy fuck, honey,” he groans, tongue flat over that damn wet spot, and you feel him tense it as he runs it up and down your slit, flicking it over your clit. You’re trying to keep your eyes open, to focus on the task he’s given you, but it feels damn near impossible. You want more. You think he reads your mind, because he hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls them down. You watch him pocket the damn thing, and that lazy grin from his profile picture is plastered on his face.

“You’re gonna let me keep them, right sweets?” You just nod, shaky. He soreads your folds open for the main camera, whistling. “You’re this wet already, haven’t even touched you properly yet,” he’s saying. “She’s so pretty for me, honey, fuck. You should look at her,” he says. And you do, watching on the tablet screen as he runs his finger along your slit, collecting your arousal on his finger before he brings up to his mouth and sucks on it, eyes fluttering shut. “Knew you’d taste good, fuck. Gimme the camcorder sweetheart, just for a little bit.” You hand it to him, and watch as he points it at your pussy. “Keep ‘em open for me okay,” he mutters as he uses his free hand to collect more of your slick on his fingers, spreading it around, laughing when you flutter around nothing every time he traces around your hole. “Needy girl aren’t you?” he says low. He hands you the camcorder. “Keep it steady for me, angel,” is all he says before he pushes a finger in, his mouth over your clit.

You’re not ready, and you yell out “fuck!”, camcorder tilting when your hands fall into the sheets. “Focus,” he says into your pussy as he curls his finger inside you, tongue still on your clit. You bring the hand with the camcorder up, point it at him again. Your other hand is gripping the sheets so hard you swear you can feel it in your shoulder. His free hand that was keeping you pinned to the bed, reaches up, curling around one of your tits, massaging as he works you with his mouth and fingers. Every whine and whimper he pulls out of you feels more embarrassing than the last, but he never stops. He just keeps going, pace consistent. The hand on your chest disconnects briefly, feeling around for yours. When he disentangles your fingers from the sheets he moves it over to his hair. “You can pull on it. I like it,” he says before he pushes another finger in. Your thighs tense, and you grip his hair hard. “That’s it, good girl,” he groans into your cunt, tongue and fingers moving faster. He’s alternating between sucking and just lazily flicking his tongue over you, looking up into the camera as he does. You can feel yourself climbing, a tight ball forming in the pits of your stomach. He must feel it too because he speeds up, sucking harder, flicking his tongue over you faster. “C’mon sweetheart you can do it,” he says when he feels you begin to flutter around his fingers. His free hand comes back down to pin you to the bed. “Fuck, you’re so close I can feel it, please. Need this, need to see you unwind,” he says, “wondered how you feel when you cum, wanna feel you angel, please,” he almost pleads. There’s something about this admission that pushes you over the edge, fills your head with a dense fog that you’re not sure you ever want to clear up. When it clears he’s staring up at you, proud.

“Still good?” he asks, taking the camcorder out of your tingling hands.

“Yeah. Are you?” you ask. He’s between your thighs and you can feel how hard it is. You’d probably be able to see it too if you were brave enough to look.

“I’m about to be,” he answers, putting the camcorder down so he can pull his sweats off. He’s not wearing underwear, you realise, when his cock springs free, tip against his abdomen. You clench around nothing when you follow the vein along his underside, watch as he wraps his hand around himself, uses the other one to pick the camcorder up. “We’ll take it slow alright, tell me if it’s too much,” he says. He spreads your legs a little further, still checking the view from the main camera. “Perfect,” he purrs, “so fucking perfect, oh my god I just knew you would be,” he’s saying as he runs his tip along your slit. He pauses for a moment, laying his length against you, just admiring.

“You ready?” he’s asking, when he finally lines the tip up with your hole, gently pressing in. You just nod. You can’t trust yourself to speak. You arch up pretty much immediately when he pushes the tip in. It’s just the tip but holy shit, it feels like so much, you don’t know how you’re supposed to take the rest. “Easy, angel,” he says stilling so you can adjust, “fuck, you feel good, and that’s just the tip. You’re gonna fit like a glove,” he’s mumbling. He draws circles around your clit with his thumb, slow and careful as he begins pressing in further, camcorder trained on the spot where he’s disappearing into you. It feels like forever until his hips are finally flush against yours, but he doesn’t move just yet. He squeezes your hip. “Still good?”

You nod. You feel so full, you might just cry when he starts moving. “Fuck, I was right. You fit like a dream, honey. You’re so soft, fuck, I could probably cum like this,” he groans. He shifts slightly, leaning back, pulling your legs so that they’re resting over his thighs. Then he starts rocking into you, gentle. You feel like you’re on fire, burning from the inside out. The drag of his cock along your walls is so delicious, even as you struggle to keep from crying out. You can’t stop the little whimpers and whines and pleas for more. “More? You want more?” he asks, speeding up. You’re whispering please, over and over and over again when he eventually just starts ramming into you, bodies connecting with obscene sounding slaps, his hand still pushing you down into the mattress as he moves, laser focused on watching you through the monitor. “Fuck you’re so good, baby. Taking me so well, better than I thought you would. This feel good for you?” he’s asking you. All you can do is moan, broken cries of “yes, so good,” slipping from your lips as he keeps pounding into you, relentless. He moves the hand that’s on your hip to one of your breasts, just squeezing it in his hand, still watching through the monitor.

“Play with them for me angel—fuck—please do it for me.” He’s got the camera angled so he can see everything below your neck, capturing the way your tits bounce with each thrust. You do what he says, hands coming up to cup them, squeezing, rolling your nipples between your fingers to a chorus of “good girl”s and “oh god you’re a star”s. He uses his thumb to rub your clit, and he’s still watching through the monitor as your own hands falter, hips jolting. “C’mon, angel you’ve got it, don’t stop,” he’s saying. His face is flushed, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. You can see the way his biceps flex when he moves his hand from your clit to your hip again, pinning you down. “Fuck, c’mon, you’re so good,” he says. He’s moving faster, chasing his own high and he leans over to reposition the camcorder on the bedside table so it’s shooting from the neck down. With both hands free, he keeps you pinned down as he rubs your clit. There’s nothing lazy about this anymore, he’s almost desperate, begging you to cum so he can cum too.

He must be a magician, you think as you feel yourself tensing, pulsing around him.

“Not a magician, just lots of practice,” he laughs from above you, still pounding into you, thumb still over your clit.

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you whine, hands covering your face. Embarrassment doesn’t stop your orgasm from washing over you, and you clench around him.

“Oh honey, don’t be embarrassed, you’re doing s-so good for… for me, shit.”

You’re sensitive now, and he slows down only slightly, still rutting into you.

“I’m almost there alright, where d’you want me?” he’s leaning down to whisper into your ear, chest flush against yours.

You don’t even hesitate. “Inside. It’s fine, I have an IUD.”

He groans, twitches and then his thrusting gets sloppy. “Fuck, you’re killing me. You’re so sweet, letting me cum inside like this… oh my god,” he groans out, stilling. You can feel him twitching inside of you as he finishes, panting in your ear. You feel him press a kiss to your forehead, and then he’s pulling out.

“Sorry,” he kisses into your cheek, when you hiss. You open your eyes, watch him grab the camcorder off the bedside table. He repositions himself so he’s between your legs, camcorder pointed at your pussy. He puts a hand on your lower stomach pushing slightly. “Think you can push it out for me?” he asks. You clench, unsure of whether it’s actually doing anything until you hear him whistle, “You’re a fucking natural,” he says, smiling. It’s soft, like he’s actually proud of you, and you try to ignore the way that makes you feel.

When he’s got all the footage he needs, he puts his pants back on, and promises he’ll be back. And he is, with a warm cloth, a glass of water and a mini packet of sour patch kids. “You probably need the sugar,” he says as he wipes between your legs, gently, taking care not to press too hard.

When he’s done, the sheets are changed, and you’re dressed again— sans underwear because he absolutely refuses to give them back— the two of you turn off all the lights and head back upstairs.

“I’ll uh, look through the footage and send you what something I’d upload would look like, and then you can decide if you still wanna go ahead with it,” he says when he gets to his bedroom. “Really, thanks for doing this for me. Goodnight,” he smiles, as he shuts the door softly behind him.