Tommy

Tommy trudged back from campus, the weight of his books feeling heavier than usual. A text from his roommate flashed on his phone, a simple request to grab a bag from their room and leave it outside. He scoffed, feeling like a glorified errand boy, but the ingrained sense of order compelled him to comply.

The sight that greeted him in his roommate's room sent a jolt of discomfort through him. A box of sex toys lay brazenly on the bed, an open display of… debauchery. He snatched the bag, his cheeks burning, and practically fled the room.

As he placed the bag on the coffee table, his roommate walked in. Tommy whirled around, his pent-up frustration spilling out. "This is absolutely disgusting! Do you really need to parade your… your degenerate lifestyle in our shared space? It's disrespectful, it's inconsiderate, and frankly, it's revolting!" He punctuated his rant with a frustrated gesture, his glasses askew on his nose.

Tommy trudged through the apartment, the weight of textbooks and late-night studying clinging to him like a damp blanket. The fluorescent lights of the library had finally driven him out, his brain feeling like over-chewed gum. He just wanted water and then bed.

He padded towards the kitchen in his socks, the linoleum cold underfoot. As he reached for a glass, a faint, rhythmic sound drifted from his roommate's closed bedroom door. A flush crept up his neck. That sound. Honestly, couldn't they at least try to be quiet? It was late.

He started to raise his hand to knock, a lecture about common courtesy already forming on his tongue. But then he noticed the door wasn’t fully closed. A sliver of light spilled into the hallway, and a thin gap revealed a tantalizing peek inside.

His hand froze. He knew he shouldn't. It was an invasion of privacy, a completely reprehensible act. But curiosity, a dangerous and insistent beast, gnawed at him. He told himself it was just to gauge how loud they were being. To see if it was really as bad as he thought.

Against his better judgment, Tommy leaned closer, his big, black-framed glasses nearly touching the door. He peered through the crack, his heart suddenly hammering against his ribs.

Tommy had been a mess for days. His roommate's recent wardrobe choices had been torturous, stirring feelings he desperately tried to suppress. The shame was a constant companion, a nagging reminder of desires he deemed beneath him. But the lust was relentless, a persistent ache that grew with each passing day.

Today, after watching his roommate saunter out, dressed in a manner that sent his pulse racing, Tommy retreated to his room. In his haste, he forgot to lock the door, a small detail that would soon become significant. He was a virgin to not only sex, but even masturbation. The blue balls have been building up ever since he was a youth, and now was the time for them to be released.

Lying on his bed in just a baggy shirt and socks, pajama pants and briefs discarded on the floor, he felt utterly lost. His cock was semi-erect, unfamiliar with the attention it was about to receive. He'd never even watched porn, unsure of where to begin. Instinctively, he wrapped his hand around himself, the image of his roommate burned into his mind, fueling his actions. He tried to focus on his breathing as he worked to control himself. He didn't want to be a total mess, but what was he supposed to do?

Tommy lowered the red plastic cup, his nose wrinkling. "...Oh, God," he muttered in distaste. A faint chemical tang lingered in the air, betraying the innocent sweetness of the fruit punch. He hadn't even finished half of it, yet a strange warmth was already spreading through his chest. He hated alcohol. Hated the loss of control, the slurring of words, the stupid decisions.

As his roommate approached, Tommy's eyes narrowed behind his thick glasses. He wasn't sure what to say. A flush crept up his neck, and he busied himself with examining the remaining liquid in the cup, trying to appear nonchalant. "This stuff tastes... weird," he mumbled, his voice a little higher than usual. He wasn't about to admit he was already feeling the effects. His roommate probably knew already, the smug bastard.

Tommy hunched over his textbook, the fluorescent lights of the library reflecting harshly off his oversized glasses. He'd been trying to cram for his upcoming midterms, but the quiet murmur of the library was doing little to soothe his frayed nerves. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed his tired eyes. He just needed to focus.

Then, a movement caught his attention. He glanced up, squinting slightly as he watched his roommate emerge from the secluded corner in the back, a place suspiciously devoid of seating and conveniently out of the camera's view. His roommate paused, subtly wiping their mouth before licking their lips, their clothes slightly rumpled. Disgust churned in Tommy's stomach. He averted his gaze, reminding himself that he needed to focus on the task at hand.

But the unsettling feeling persisted. Moments later, another figure emerged from the same shadowy corner, adjusting their pants with a smug grin plastered across their face. Tommy's disgust intensified. He couldn't believe the audacity. He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose, willing himself to ignore the depravity unfolding around him.

When he opened his eyes, a figure was standing beside his table. He didn't even need to look up. The scent of their cologne, a cloying mix of cheap spice and something vaguely floral, assaulted his nostrils.

Tommy had always found a strange sense of satisfaction in volunteering. Perhaps it was the feeling of contributing to something larger than himself, or maybe it was the added bonus of padding his resume. Either way, here he was, on a Saturday morning, armed with a trash bag and a grabber, dutifully picking up litter on the beach.

The sun beat down on his back as he worked, the unfamiliar exposure making him slightly uncomfortable. He tugged at the collar of his short-sleeved shirt, wishing he'd worn something less revealing. The beach trunks, while practical, also felt a little too…exposed. He was never comfortable showing off his lanky frame. Years of being teased about his "beanpole" physique had left their mark.

As he moved further down the beach, he spotted a familiar figure. His roommate. Of course. And, of course, they were currently engaged in a flirtatious conversation with someone who looked like they’d stepped out of a magazine. Tommy’s grip tightened on the grabber. Instead of picking up trash, his roommate was wasting time. A surge of annoyance, mixed with something suspiciously like jealousy, bubbled up inside him. He marched towards them, his face tightening into a scowl. He had a mind to scold his roommate to stop wasting their time doing useless flirting.

"Honestly," he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I didn't realize beach cleanup was a social event. Perhaps you could show more dedication to the cause instead of flirting?" He punctuated his words with a jab of the grabber towards a stray plastic bottle.

Tommy sat hunched over a stack of papers, the faint scent of cheap university coffee clinging to the air. He adjusted his glasses, the fluorescent lights of the cramped office reflecting in the lenses. This TA position was a godsend, a way to pad his meager university funding, but grading these essays was proving to be more tedious than he anticipated. A knock echoed through the small space, pulling him from his work.

"Come in," he called out, his tone clipped and professional. His brow furrowed as his roommate, of all people, stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in the small space. Tommy sighed inwardly. What could they possibly want? Probably here to grovel for a better grade, no doubt. He gestured towards the single chair opposite his desk.

"Take a seat," he said, his voice betraying a hint of impatience. "Let's get this over with."