Seamus

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Seamus wants his room-mate, Neill.
5.3k words
4.56
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Part 1 of the 8 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 02/08/2006
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Sachs
Sachs
146 Followers

My name's Seamus (I blame my parents for that). I'm six foot two, well-muscled, with dark hair and green eyes. I am still at uni and I play rugby. In my second year of university, I elected to stay in the hall of residence where I had been staying since the first year, rather than go out flatting like most of my mates. This was really because I didn't have time to make dinners or do any of the roster duties that flatmates usually have to do. It wasn't that I was lazy (ok I was a bit), I was in the university first fifteen rugby team and the second eleven cricket team. This meant that I had to keep myself in really good shape, I had heaps of practices, plus I had my uni work – commerce, and I had picked up a couple of jobs as a personal trainer to middle-aged women for a few hours a week.

I ended up in a shared room (it was heaps cheaper than a single room), sharing with a third year student. His name was Neill. He had longish, blonde-brown hair, these brilliant, piercing blue eyes, and a catlike face, with fine chiseled cheekbones and a pointed chin. His tanned limbs and chest were tight with lean muscle. He surfed when he could get to a beach, and skateboarded in his free time. He was studying zoology and was into Greenpeace and saving forests from mining projects and stuff like that. He regularly picketed against things that I had no idea existed.

I guess Neill was a bit of a culture shock for me to start with. I had always been on the straight and narrow, doing what Dad said, playing the right sports, doing the right courses. Neill really made me wake up and start thinking about the real world. I found it hard to deal with some of his more extreme friends, but he was cool. We got along like a house on fire. I never had more fun than that year.

Anyway, one night, Neill came in at about eleven, which wasn't too late for either of us. He wanted me to come out on the town with him and anyone else we could pick up. "Come on man, come out," he begged me. His blue eyes bored into me, a quirky expression on his tanned face. "You never have any fun. When did you last get drunk, let alone laid?"

"I've got practice at 5.30, tomorrow morning," I grumbled. "Coach nearly had my balls last Friday when I showed up hung-over. He's getting really tough on the team – he kicked Nathan off games for two weeks just 'cos he showed up late for practice. I can't risk it, man."

"Oh, come on, that's your excuse every time there's a party or anything," he saw my glare and probably guessed I wouldn't change my mind by that reasoning. He changed tack. "Jill must be the last fuck you had, right? That was three months ago, man."

"I've had girls since then," I lied. I sat on my bed and started to take my shoes off. I lifted my gaze to his, smiling with pursed lips. "I can't go, mate, I just can't. I promise I'll come out next time."

"You say that every time," Neill said. He flopped down on the bed beside me. He sat so close that our legs touched, and when he spoke to me his face was only inches away. "You know what you need?" He took a deep breath. "A good shag."

"Like that will solve everything," I said.

"It'd be a start," he replied. "You're so uptight." He rested his hand on my thigh for a moment, up the top, next to my groin. He smiled at me, waiting to see what I would do next.

I thought it was typical gay chicken. Neill was always pulling this stuff with me, and I honestly thought it was a joke (yes, I was a bit dumb (plus stupid, 'cos I fancied him like crazy)). I responded by putting my hand down on his. His hand was surprisingly hot and sweaty. Gently, I moved both our hands to his knee, stroking them up and down his inner thigh. "Why don't you just go and have a good time. I'll still be here when you come back, if you're still horny," I joked. We both laughed, though his laugh seemed to catch in his chest very quickly.

He left after that. I can't remember him saying much, he just got his jacket and said, "Ok, bye." I stripped down to my boxers, turned the lights off and went to bed.

I was awoken at about one a.m. by the door being slammed. I heard Neill's light laugh, and the giggle of a girl. I was a bit annoyed that he had brought a girl back without texting me to clear out to somebody else's place, but didn't saying anything. I shut my eyes and pretended to be asleep. The lights flicked on, and it became harder to keep my eyes shut.

"Shit, you didn't tell me you shared a room," the girl spat.

"It won't be a problem, will it?" Neill said.

"Yeah, it is a problem. I am not shagging you in the same room as your roommate!" At this point, I had to open my eyes, just so I could see who she was. Her name was Simone. She took a lecture with me, and I knew her only on sight. Her skin was dark and she had long, wavy, black hair. She wore big, hoop earrings, a white, sparkly halterneck and a short, denim skirt. She was hot, I guess, I just wasn't into her.

"He's asleep," Neill said.

Simone made eye contact with me. "No, he's not. I suppose you two think you're smart – one of you bring the girl back and then you both fuck me, right?"

Neill gave a little swagger and put his hands on his hips. He was wearing his usual bootcut baggy jeans (think seventies – most of his stuff was 'vintage'), but had on a nice button-down black shirt in some sort of slinky fabric. The contrast with dark made his hair look lighter and his eyes more intense. We made eye contact. He smiled and winked at me. Somewhere, there was some sort of logic to all this, but at that point, I didn't get it. "If that's how you like it," he told Simone. "I'm sure Seamus would like to join in."

I got up. I couldn't help it. It would just be too weird for conservative-little-me to have a threesome. "Umm, look, I'll go sleep in someone else's room, it's no biggie."

She looked at me (probably realizing that I was 'that rugby guy'). They both looked at me. I had on my 'tighty' black boxers that left little to the imagination. My abs were like a washboard, my arms and pecs were well-developed. I had no hair on my body – I didn't get it waxed (I don't do pain), I used a spray-on, hose-off depilatory spray. I was pretty vain about my body, and spent a lot of time and money getting a full body tan. At that point in time, I was probably the fittest I've ever been. Yet, I suddenly felt embarrassed by the way they were looking at me, especially Neill. I guess I suddenly got that all the passes he had made at me weren't a joke, they were for real. He was staring at my crotch. I couldn't help it, my heart pounded and I was hot and red all over. My groin tingled as my cock hardened.

I was mortified! I wasn't sure whether they'd seen my cock swell or not, but I quickly grabbed my pillow and a t-shirt and covered myself. I didn't know what I felt about Neill, but I couldn't deal with it now. I picked up my keys and pushed myself between them to the door.

Neill caught my arm, "Don't go." The contact of his sweaty hand sent jolts through my body. My muscles tightened. I quickly shrugged him off.

I nodded to Simone. "Have fun."

I closed the door behind me and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. I didn't feel like waking anybody to share their room, although there were probably lots of people awake. I wanted to be alone to think, and sadly, the bathroom was usually the only place anybody could be alone. Surprisingly, as I walked past the door, I saw the common room was empty. I guessed there was a party on that I didn't know about. I settled down on one of the more intact couches and tried to sleep. I tried not to think about or touch my cock.

I must've slept, because at some point in the night, I woke up to somebody's cold, sweaty hand on my face. I had one of those waking experiences when your whole body jumps and suddenly you're wide awake. I instinctively punched toward the source of the hand.

"Oww, man. What'd you do that for?"

"Neill?" I asked.

"What a waste of time that was," he said. "She kept talking about you, then gave me her life story. We didn't even kiss! Now she's gone back to whatever hole she crawled out from."

"That's not very nice," I whispered. It bugged me that I couldn't see what Neill was doing. He wasn't even touching me now, so why did it scare me?

"I must've woken up half the hall looking for you," Neill continued. "I'm really sorry about the girl, I just wasn't thinking. You shouldn't have got kicked out of the room."

I sat up. "No," I agreed.

"Um, well, you can come back now." Neill's voice sounded unsteady for the first time since I had met him.

We didn't talk for a while after that. We got back to the room, got into our beds and turned out the lights. Finally, Neill spoke. "You're a bit quiet, mate. Are you all right? Is everything cool with us?"

"I'm just tired," I said. "What time is it?"

Neill shifted something on his bedside table to check his clock/radio. "Two eleven."

"Great." I shut my eyes again.

"Are you sure you're all right?" I heard his bedsprings whine, and figured he was rolling over. I didn't realize he was out of his bed until I felt his hot breath on my cheek.

My heart was pounding like a hundred horses, sending pulsing, tingling blood all around my body. I shivered as I started to get hard again. 'Why?' I was asking myself. 'What the hell is wrong with you?' My groin felt like it was on fire (in a good way). I instinctively reached inside the waistband of my boxers and tugged myself. I felt myself lengthen and harden between my fingers. My hot cock was swelling very quickly to 7 ½ inches. "I'm fine," I gasped. What was happening to me? I wanted him to touch me so badly that I forgot to breathe for a couple of seconds.

Neill peeled back the covers and climbed in beside me. My heart felt like it would explode. I didn't know what to do. "What are you doing?" I moaned.

He pressed his bare chest against my back. I could feel every hair, every long, sinewy muscle, even his nipples, which seemed big and hard like a girl's. His silky hair caressed my skin, sending tiny shivers all over my body. Then I felt his hand pressing on the outside of my boxers. I think I stopped breathing again. My cock was still wrapped up in my hand. However, my balls were left at the mercy of his long fingers. He cupped them in his hand, pressing them back against me, seeing as they were still in my boxers, and did something with the palm of his hand which had my cock dribbling. I don't know why, but a natural movement came over me and I started to hump my balls against his hand, my back against his chest. I could feel his hot, fat cock rubbing against my lower back as I moved. He had boxers on, but his cockhead must have been sticking out. It felt wet and smooth, and only aroused me further.

Neill kissed my neck with an open mouth. He gave me love bites, but he didn't really bite. He seem to pluck at my flesh with his mouth, momentarily sucking the skin against his hot, muscular tongue, then releasing it whilst he sought out another piece of skin. The areas where he had kissed me grew cold quickly, contrasting strongly with the warm, fresh kisses. I was hot and cold all at once. It felt amazing. No girl I'd ever been with had been so intuitive about what would feel good on my body.

I didn't know what to do, didn't know if I wanted Neill sexually. My body said I did (I did! I did!), but my mind kept going 'What the hell are you doing? You don't find Neill attractive. You're supposed to like girls. You're a sports star, you're not a pansy. What are you doing? Don't let him touch you like that.' It kept going around and around in my head, and I started second-guessing what my Dad, my other friends, my team-mates would say. Then I thought, 'maybe this will be a one-off shag. It doesn't mean that I'm gay.' My heart skipped a beat, 'who said anything about a shag?', 'what if he wants me to suck him? I can't do that, let alone the other stuff.'

Now I know that the most masculine, most sexy, thing a man can ever experience is another man's touch, but I didn't know that then. I was too scared about what everybody else would think to allow myself to enjoy what I wanted. I just couldn't handle it. Suddenly I heard my voice groan, "Stop, you've got to stop. I can't do this, I'm not gay."

Neill stopped touching me immediately. His hand left my groin, his lips my neck, his chest my back. I heard a strangled sound like a sob escape his throat. Then he was out of the bed. I covered my face with my pillow, whilst he did something on his side of the room. I heard the drawers slam shut, the jangle of his keys and the door bang. Neill was gone.

I began to cry, slowly stroking my cock as I did so. It was amazingly wet with precum, which made jacking very easily. I was also much more aroused than I had ever been before. Every point of my body that contacted something else seemed to be hot and tingling, and it felt like hot ropes ran through me, channeling all the arousal to my cock. The starchy sheets clung between my sweaty legs. My slinky boxers provided only the lightest whisper of touch to my balls. I felt my own skin contacting skin, silky, hairless, with hot sweat providing lubrication for movement. My hair brushed across my face sending shivers throughout my body. Anything that touched me made me hornier.

I wasn't gentle with myself, I started to rub and tug myself hard, so that jacking was almost painful. I couldn't help it, I was desperate to cum... and I couldn't. After a few minutes of punishing my meat, I gave up and rolled onto my back.

I lay there, bathed in hot sweat, the sheets stuck between my legs and my cock pushed out of my boxers, resting against my stomach. I felt so terrible. I couldn't understand what had just happened – well, I could actually, but I was all confused. I'd blown it with Neill and he'd probably never talk to me again. He was my best friend ever, in the whole entire world, and I'd lost him.

It was stupid, what I had said, because I had wanted him. I wanted him to hold me and to kiss me. I wanted to kiss him properly, so that our mouths and bodies met face to face. I wanted to stroke his hair and rub my lips across his forehead and along his cheekbones. I even wanted to feel his hot, hard cock in my hands, perhaps inside me. All these thoughts of desperation only aroused me further.

I started to remember porn movies where girls were fucked by huge red poles between their hard oily buttocks, only there weren't any girls – it was me, on my knees, face tilted into the floor, my hands behind me, parting my butt-cheeks for Neill's cock. Neill, grinding into me hard and fast, his hands on my hips, pulling me toward him every time he thrust in, so that his cock went into me deeper and deeper, forcing open my hot, virgin channel, so that next time he fucked me I'd be just that little bit looser. His hairy legs and balls would be pressed against mine, tickling me and arousing me further. I'd be panting like a dog, wanting more and more, drenched in sweat and so hot my skin would burn like chilli on my wet lips. My cock would be flat against my stomach, dripping precum all over the floor, until finally I wouldn't be able to take the fucking in my arse anymore and cum would explode from my cock, splattering my chest and even my face in a hot shower of lust. Neill would cum soon after, or maybe at the same time, filling my tight arse with so much thick cum that it would drip out my anus while his cock was still inside me.

I had fantasized about it many times before in the middle of the night, whilst half-asleep, and had always pushed the thoughts to the back of mind, like they weren't happening at all. I guess that's why it didn't work with any of the girls I'd been with recently – I was always imagining that I was the one being fucked and not the other way round.

I was a coward. I worried about what Dad would think, and whether I'd lose my place on the teams. And the minute my dreams started to come true, I was too scared to let them happen. I had turned down the only guy I'd ever fantasized about. Neill was gone. Shit. I lay on my back with my pillow pressed on my face, and cried so hard that it felt as though my throat and lungs were being ripped out. After a bit, I ran out of tears, and started to think about how I could fix this mess. I searched around for my phone and tried his number. I heard his Nirvana ringtone on his half of the room, so I hung up.

At 4.30, I decided that there was no point staying in bed. I got up, dressed, and headed out to my car. I chucked my rugby gear on the backseat and slammed the doors. I drove to a wooded park I knew and went for a 45 minute run. The dawn mists and fresh air didn't make me feel any better. I kept checking my phone for messages, nothing from Neill. I then had rugby practice, followed by couple of lectures and a session with my client, Mrs. Peters. I couldn't stop thinking about Neill and wanted to be back looking for him. However, it was 2 pm before I got back to the Hall.

The first thing I noticed was Neill's car, a blue Toyota that had had a hard life, parked illegally in the service exit. The trunk was open, displaying a shabby back-pack and a plastic bag full of clothing (nothing anybody would want to steal). I broke into a run, hoping to intercept Neill before he left.

It was the time of day when almost everybody was out somewhere. There were only a few people I passed, apart from one large group of guys and girls playing football in a hallway on the top floor of Somerset Wing. They begged me to join in, but I made my excuses and passed through. I ran up down two flights of stairs, along another couple of hallways and into our wing. There I met Neill coming out of our room, a rubbish bag in his hand.

"What the hell's going on?" I asked. Before he could reply, I steered him by the elbow back into the room and locked the door. I took the bag from his hands and tossed it onto his bed.

Neill didn't meet my eyes. "I'm moving out."

"Why?" I asked.

"Cos it's just going to be too weird if we keep sharing a room," he replied, shuffling his feet. Neill never shuffled his feet, or looked humble like that. It made me feel even worse about what I'd said, since he obviously wasn't himself anymore. It would have taken a lot of guts to do what he had done the other night and I must've made him feel like a complete fool (as opposed to an incomplete fool).

I didn't touch him, even though I desperately wanted to. Once again, I was afraid of seeming 'gay'. But I managed to stutter a few words, "I don't want you to go."

Neill looked up at me, his blue eyes suddenly cold. He held me with his eyes for a second or so, then glanced away. "We both know why I have to go. It just wouldn't work out if I stayed. You'd be all paranoid around me-"

"No-" I said. "Please, I won't. I've been a complete dickhead about all of this-"

"You got that one right," Neill whispered, in a harsh tone. He still looked away from me, his blonde hair half across his face so that I couldn't see his eyes. Normally that would annoy him – he was always threatening to get some of it cut off 'cos it kept getting in his eyes (he did not want to be a ponce in a ponytail, he said) – but I guess that day it was a useful shield.

"Neill-" I moved to stand straight in front of him, only inches away. I took hold of his shoulders but he shook away.

"Stop fucking touching me." He elbowed down my hands, fighting to get away from me. He succeeded, and went over to his bed to pick up the bag I'd thrown there. "I don't know what your fucking problem is, but I'll be glad to be away from you-"

I couldn't help it, I couldn't bear for Neill to hate me like that, I grabbed him, tightly this time. I pulled him close, even though he punched at me and it hurt. Closing my eyes, I kissed his fine, chiseled lips, as hard as I could. When I came up for air, he slapped my face and stabbed his knuckles into my stomach, driving me back so that I whacked my back on his drawers. "What the fuck are you playing around with me for? I know how you feel, so just stop pissing me around," he shouted.

Sachs
Sachs
146 Followers
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