Chapter 3

THREE

Jonas

I lay there, mind reeling over what had just happened until the come started to cool and dry on my skin.

Peter's come. All over my ass.

I didn't know why he had done that. I didn't know why the hell I'd gone along with it.

He was an asshole. I hadn't been lying when I'd said I'd never like him.

Guys like him: loud, abrasive jerks who were full of hate weren't my cup of tea. And yeah, he got along with Charles, but that was because Charles was nice enough to look past any hateful, homophobic comments that Peter made.

I wasn't so kind, though.

Groaning softly, I uncurled my body, standing to see the damage.

With a start, I realized the camera wasstill running, so I shut it off quickly, my heart racing with the latent realization that all of that was now saved on my memory card. There was proof that I'd let Charles' best friend fuck me with a dildo and come on my ass.

I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath to ground myself before kicking my boxers off and using the fabric to scrub my skin clean.

I wanted to go take a shower, but I was too worried I'd run into Peter again. Things had already been awkward enough since that party—more like since I'd moved in here—I couldn't imagine it would get any better now.

Swallowing, I pushed the thought away and packed my toys into their drawer, taking a minute to disinfect them all even though I was so tired.

Shutting off my ring light, the room was plunged into darkness. I crawled into bed, listening to the silence ring.

After a few minutes, I could hear Peter snoring softly and snorted. Admittedly, I felt like a rope had unfurled inside me. I hadn't come like that in, well, I couldn't remember. And that said something because I came for a living. My eyes drifted shut and the peace after a release took me over.

When I woke up in the morning though and saw the camera still set up, everything came flying back to me like a punch to the gut.

What the fuck had I done?

The person I hated, the one who happened to be my brother's best friend and my roommate, now knew my biggest secret.

He was asshole enough to hold it over me, to use it as blackmail or torture me with it.

Heart pounding, I cracked open my bedroom door and peered into the rest of the apartment. It was empty.

Just to be sure, I went to his room and pressed my ear to the door, but there were no noises from inside. And unlike some assholes, I didn’t just walk into people’s rooms without an invite.When I saw that his shoes were gone, too, I let out a sigh of relief and finally headed to the shower.

It wasn’t until I was under the hot spray of water that it hit me. He had come too. He'd fucked me with a dildo and then come on me... That didn’t exactly seem like blackmail material for him.

But he'd said all those things. That summer when I first met him. He had made fun of Professor Gordon. I'd heard him going on about that faggot to Charles and saying other disgusting things, like that he only failed the guys who wouldn't fuck him.

I'd had Professor Gordon. I'd liked him. He'd been a bit of a mentor for me. He'd never done anything inappropriate that I had ever seen. He was gay, but if Peter failed his class, it was because he was an idiot, not because the professor couldn't get in his pants.

I stood under the hot water, wondering about Peter. It was always the homophobes trying to suppress their own feelings, wasn't it...

Maybe for some reason, he didn’t feel like he could be himself.

My heart clenched at the thought, because though I came from a loving family, even I hadn’t come out to everyone. It had taken going to college for me to get the balls to tell my family and they kept it quiet because I still didn't like that being the first thing people knew about me when I walked into a room.

And of course, when it came to Peter, I'd made Charles promise to never tell him, even though he swore up and down that Peter wasn’t that bad.

Maybe he was gay or bi...

Or maybe he'd just been horny, and I was there, ready to go.

I sighed and began to wash off.

I couldn't get a soft spot for the guy just because he'd given me an orgasm. I was being crazy.

It didn't change anything.

That repeated in my head like a mantra for the rest of the day. Especially when Peter came home late, looking tired and somehow sexy at the same time. Like he was ready to jump into bed and that would lead to— no. Bad brain.

He was, unfortunately, attractive for a jerk. I'd always thought so. He was broad-shouldered with a nice face and short curly ash blond hair. He had lovely full lips, and grey eyes that were more soulful than they should be. Not to mention those thick thighs and that muscular ass. I often had to remind myself not to look when he walked by. But it was normal to look at an attractive guy even if you didn't want to fuck them.

He walked in while I was in the kitchen getting a bag of popcorn out of the microwave and paused when he saw me. We both did. For a moment, our gazes caught and held each other and then he passed me, went to his room, and left me to myself for the rest of the night.

I wasn’t used to it. Normally, even when he was in his room, I could hear him watching stuff on the computer or talking on the phone. I tried to pay attention to my show, but my gaze kept flying back to his bedroom door.

Was that it? Were we going to be even better now than we were before? Ignoring each other completely would be fine by me. It was what I had initially wanted.

So why didn’t it didn't feel like a good thing?

I felt weirdly guilty when I went to bed later. Laying there, in the same spot where we'd fooled around last night, listening to the silence again, I felt like I'd been... mean.

I didn't like that. I’d done nothing wrong.

Up until now, I hadn't cared what I said to Peter. I'd never felt bad...

I couldn't get a soft spot for the guy just because he'd given me an orgasm, I reminded myself.Itdidn't change anything.

It didn't change anything!

I shut my eyes, repeating the mantra until a sound reached me. It was a gentle creak at first, but I quickly knew what it was. I could hear him breathing, that same heavy sound from last night.

Fuck. He was jerking off.

Was he thinking about me? About what we had done?

I lay there, not moving a muscle, just listening.

"Yes," he whispered.

I bit my lip, cock hardening at the sound of his voice. He was being loud on purpose. He had to be... oh shit , I'd been in here loads of times, jerking off and thinking he couldn't hear me.

"Jonas."

My eyes widened at the sound of my name and without thinking, I was gripping my cock. I started to stroke it, listening desperately for more, still trying to be quiet until I couldn't anymore. My panting and quiet moans filled the air, and I was letting him hear me.

He groaned softly.

Peter was making me lose my mind. Seriously, what the fuck was I doing?

One of the hottest things ever, that's what.

I pumped harder, committed now, getting off on the idea of us both getting off to the idea of what each other was doing.

He came before me; his heavy grunt was followed by silence and then a long moan, the frantic shifting of his bed moving quickly while he stroked himself to completion.

I listened desperately, a soft moan escaping me as come spilled all over my fist and my cock flexed, balls emptying.

For a minute, I lay there, speechless, panting, trying to breathe and see past the stars.

Peter was going to be bad for business. If he kept making me empty my balls off-camera, I wouldn't be making much money for the rent.

I woke up crusty for the second morning in a row and this time had no idea how to process this new development.

Feeling like I was going crazy, I did what I always did when I was stressed: I went to the gym.

An hour spent lifting weights while music blared in my AirPods helped. The gym shower was nice, too. By the time I left, I felt like a different person, just in time to meet up with Charles for lunch.

He was upbeat as usual when we met at our favourite all-day breakfast place. He always lifted my mood like no one else could, but apparently, I wasn't completely back to my usual self because halfway through our coffees, he set down his mug and gave me a hard look.

"What's got you down, bro?" he asked, lightly. "Something on your mind?"

I couldn't help smiling as I rolled my eyes.

"Nothing new, bro ," I lied. Then, because he was still looking at me, now with a brow raised, I ended up giving in.

"What do you even see in Peter?" I asked. "Of all the friends you have, for him to be your bestie..."

He sighed heavily.

"Peter's great. He's literally the first person I turn to if I need something."

I frowned.

"After you," he amended. “He doesn't even ask questions. He's just there for me.”

My frown deepened. I hadn't heard any of this before and it rubbed me up the wrong way for a different reason.

"I'm your big brother," I reminded him. "You're supposed to come to me."

Charles grinned.

"Yeah, I do, don't be jealous. But, for example, my work check was on hold last semester when payment was due. I asked Peter if he could loan me a thousand dollars and he transferred it to me before I could even tell him what it was for."

I blinked.

"Mom and dad could have sorted you out."

He shook his head.

"No, they were about to go on that trip to Hawaii they’d been planning for ages. I didn't want to mess with that. And you were still a broke student... and hopefully will be again soon?"

I nodded, looking down at my steaming mug because I couldn't look at him while I lied.

"Yeah, I'm doing lots of overtime. I nearly have enough saved for grad school. Hopefully, I can start in the winter term.”

“Data entry must pay better than I thought,” he mused. “Boring as hell, though, right?"

"Yup," I agreed.

I took a sip of my drink.

"Anyway, I still think Peter’s a bigot," I threw in, trying to swing the conversation away from the job I'd told him I had.

He frowned, looking so genuinely sad for a moment that I nearly felt guilty.

"He's not," he insisted. "I thought you would see that when you started living together."

Our food arrived, interrupting, and I chose not to continue the conversation, asking instead how his studies were going, if he was seeing anyone, and other, safer subjects.

By the time I got home later, I felt drained and heavy at the same time.

Setting up an account on Red Light Boys had made my heart race. It had felt taboo. I was doing something that no one could know about, after all.

I hoped it was in my favour that I wasn't one of the company's escorts, at least. I didn't meet anyone in person, and I even kept my face out of the videos.

Each time I uploaded a new one, I was paid a base amount for the length of the tape, then paid for views on top of that.

To my surprise, a lot of people had subscribed right from the start. Apparently, people liked my body. I got a lot of comments about it, a lot of people calling me things like ‘ sweetheart ’ and ‘ cutie ’ even though they only ever saw me from the waist down.

I needed the money to live out my dream of getting into research. I had to get my master’s degree. One of my professors had already offered to help hook me up, depending on how things worked out for me. But first, I needed to do this , and luckily, I enjoyeddoing it.

It was a bit of an ego boost, and I liked seeing what I looked like afterwards and what people thought of it. It was interesting. For someone lean like me, people seemed to prefer it when I used dildos. They liked to pretend that it was their cock sliding into me.

I didn't mind. I was more of a bottom, anyway.

Or I was when I didn't spend all my spare time masturbating. This gig had seriously interfered with my dating life. I was too emptied out to bother going looking for dates. That would have to wait. Finding a boyfriend was a future me problem.

For now, I needed to upload something new. I needed the paycheck.

The house was quiet. I didn't know if Peter was home, but I didn't think he was. Despite our midnight interaction, it seemed we were still avoiding each other like the plague.

Speaking of the other night...

I sat at my computer, staring at the camera, realizing that I already had something filmed. Something I hadn't rewatched yet.

I didn't know if I was even in frame for it, but surely there was some useable footage on that tape, be it from before Peter had come in.

I swallowed. I hadn't had the heart to even turn it on or delete the recording, because the thought of seeing any part of what we'd done made me squirm in my seat.

Taking a shaking breath, I turned the computer on and went to the recording.

Before pressing play, I put on my headphones, just in case Peter was home and listening.

It started like my other videos did, with me getting everything ready. Normally I deleted those parts, but this time I watched as I went through the steps, lubing up my toys as I sat on the edge of the bed, and then getting into position.

I started by laying back, legs spread, so the camera got a good shot of my hole as I slipped a finger inside, then another.

Once I was ready, I took the smallest of my dildos, pushing it inside with ease and letting out a soft breath as I did. That was the extent of the noise I ever made. I was always worried about being too loud.

I watched in anticipation as I went through them, going up in size, my cock getting harder as I did. The view was good. I could use all of this. It was amazing, really, the way my body could take a big cock like this now. I wasn't quite at fisting level, but I'd definitely sized up since starting to do these solo sex tapes.

By the time I picked up my largest one, I couldn't breathe. I knew what was coming, and sure enough, I watched as I struggled to get the wide tip inside me and then the sigh of relief as it entered me. Just as I started to use it, sliding its long length in and out, making my cock twitch and leak, there was a loud banging .

My heart was racing as I watched the way I jumped. Peter started yelling through the door.

Asshole.

I scrambled up, and the dildo slipped out of me, landing heavily on the floor, and I practically fell out of bed, fighting back into my boxers.

It obviously wasn't staged. My arm hit the camera, making it wobble. Everything was out of focus and then, the bed came back into sharp relief and for a long time, there was nothing but our voices.

My heart was racing as I listened to the exchange as though I were a spectator, wondering what would happen next, even though I knew. You could hear the fear in my voice and a strange tone in Peter's that I still couldn't quite grasp except that it must have meant he wasinterestedand trying not to show it.

Then he bent, still in his clothes in front of the camera and even though his face never quite made it into the frame, his arm did and part of his hand holding the dildo.

My choked voice followed.

"W hat are you doing? " then his " Helping you out. "

I still didn't know what possessed me to get onto that bed, yet there I was, crawling on top of it and there was Peter's nice large hand smoothing over my ass.

I couldn't breathe, watching as I pulled my boxer shorts down, perfectly in the middle of the frame.

When he pushed the dildo into me, I took a ragged breath, watching the muscles in his forearm flex and hearing my moans mingled with his heavy, aroused breathing for the first time.

I'd known that he took his cock out, that he came on me, but it was like a fever dream that wasn’t quite real in my memory. I hadn't seen his cock then, but when he pulled it out in the video, I nearly choked.

"Fuck," I whispered and despite myself, I reached for my own. I was so hard it was aching, and I gripped the tip, squeezing the pre-come out as I started stroking, hard and fast as he continued to fuck me with the dildo, his big cock resting there on my cheek waiting for its turn. Dammit, why did his cock have to be as attractive as the rest of him? It was fucking perfect.

When I came, it was louder and harder than any other video I had. Sometimes I could make myself come hands-free, but I didn’t usually lose control of my whole body, convulsing like it was too much while I still needed more—which had been exactly how it felt.

Then Peterpulled the dildo out, leaving me gaping, and finally gripped his cock and began stroking it hard and fast.

Sitting in my office chair, I matched his rhythm, gripping the arm hard, and listening to his grunts right against my ears. I came just as semen started spurting from his tip, all over me, soaking me in thick, white strands.

A moan tore from my throat, but I couldn’t stop it. It felt too good.

I arched back, squeezing my cock as it continued to flex.

Finally, I collapsed back just as I was telling Peter to leave in the video.

I sat there, shaking, watching my limp body on the screen as I caught my breath and an idea occurred to me.

The entire video was usable.

We never saw Peter's face and aside from a moment when I looked at him over my shoulder, you never saw mine, either.

I didn't think anyone would recognize me from that little glimpse of eyes and nose, anyway.

Surely it would be a good thing to change it up a bit from my usual solo releases.

Biting my lip, I pulled my hand from my pants, wiping it on some tissues before quickly going onto the Red Light Boys website and into my creator account.

I uploaded the video, titled it ‘CAUGHT BY MY ROOMMATE’, and hit enter before I could chicken out.

I wouldn't be able to film anything else today now. I was too spent.

Sighing, I pushed to my feet.

Peter was definitely bad for business.

I forced myself to shut the computer down and didn’t touch it again for the night. I was too nervous.

Somehow, I made it to the next morning. When I couldn't stay away from the website any longer and finally checked the views, I quickly changed my mind about Peter.

It looked like he wasvery good for business.