tagNonConsent/ReluctanceJust An Ordinary Boy

Just An Ordinary Boy


It goes without saying all characters are above 18.

Just wanna make it clear I do not condone use of Alcohol or drugs as coping mechanisms.

Shout out to MaximusTheMad and y86 for grammar wrangling and helping me make this presentable


She squirmed further into the bed, face in pillow.


A shadow passed by the lace curtains, Mallory barely glanced at it, caught up in her work. That'd be Guy her roommate, intelligent but surly, he decided years ago to forgo the 'pantomime of higher education', as he called it. Instead settled into a high paid tech job immediately after leaving St. Bart's, the school he and her had attended together.

From her room, she heard the front door slam. Sighing inwardly, she reached for her headphones, remembering too late that they were still charging; as she lifted her hand, she instead reached for the gold black box beside them. Later the sound of the microwave could be heard in the living room - thin ass walls.

He'd had a bad day at work, or a great one. Always hard to say with this guy. By the sound of it, he'd thrown his bag down and settled into a match.

"Football, how boring," she thought.

She adjusted her seat in the chair, unclenching her fist from a fag. It was harder than it looked, this lark, and with the new term starting in less than a week she would have to bring her A game so to speak. She followed a speck of dust floating on a mini thermal created by the radiator, took a second drag, threshing the ether for cues.

The neatness of the room perturbed him. Other than the furniture, a sweet leather suite lain L shape around the wall mounted flat screen; you'd be hard pressed to think any normal humans lived here. Even the few scattered houseplants looked too green and healthy, as if some real estate agent had discreetly snuck them in moments before a showing. He shook his head, draining the silver cylinder in hand. Sure Guy (Al to his mates) was a friend of his. He shouldn't begrudge him his good fortune. He'd chose to walk down with him hadn't he? Having met him at the bus stop on his own way home from work. After all, better to watch the match here than that pub down the street - full of raring alchos as it was. He turned his gaze towards the blonde head currently rooting in the fridge.

"So where is Mallory?"

Guy paused his search to regard his 'friend' on the couch, Tommy. They'd met back in 1st year and despite having fuck all in common besides football team, hung out ever since. These once weekly meet ups were more out of habit than anything else at this stage. Still, he wasn't the worst of sorts.

"Well?" Tommy repeated, "Where is she?"

Guy merely grunted and passed him another can out of the fridge and plopped down beside him. It will be the first of many but for now both were sober, sweat stained from the rat race, eyes glued to the screen.

Mallory put her pen down and unfolded from her chair, time for a shower.

In the living room, analysis of the match dragged on. Tommy and Guy caught up in conversation paused briefly as they heard the shower go on. Guy lit a cigarette, inwardly rolling his eyes in anticipation of what came next.

"Heard she's a bit of a slut, your one," Tommy spoke casually into his beer can.

"Every fucking time with this guy," Al thought. "Would it kill him to just ask her out?"

But, knowing what was expected, he feigned choking on his fag and with all the false interest he could muster, blurted out, "What?"

"Yeah I heard she's mad for it, fucking gagging for it like..."

And on the story went, Tommy getting increasingly excited as he described in lurid detail, all the disgusting lewd acts Al knew his quiet, near prudish roommate would never do. Usually he let Tommy carry on, uh huhhing and ahhing at the appropriate parts but today he was in no mood. Thankfully the loud click of the shower being turned off across the hall cut today's salaciousness short. Relieved, Al sucked air through his teeth and regarded his friend cynically.

"Brave man you."

If Als cold comment cut, Tommy pretended not to notice, choosing instead to remain quiet and regard the droning sportscaster's face with a very fixed seriousness.

Al laughed.

Mal wrapped her gold brown body in green, her favourite colour, the towel soft. She stepped out into the smoke-filled, dim hallway. Guy was laughing at something Tommy had said. She frowned. She didn't like that Tommy. Something about his twice surly demeanour and how he was ever looking down on things. Then again - his height wasn't his fault. Shit! She'd forgotten her detangler in the bathroom, she padded back down the hall. Quickly. Frizz was no one's friend.

Meanwhile, Tommy shifted off the couch.

"Back in a second, need to piss."

Al merely grunted and lit another fag.

"Fucking posh bastard with his fucking fancy couch, and fucking fancy TV. Living with a goddess to boot, too far fucking above it all to even appreciate it at all..." Tommy's thoughts grumbled through, dark and angry, in this manner as he meandered down the hall.

"Call me a fucking coward will he," he muttered out loud. A surprised "Oh!" let him know he wasn't alone.

He'd caught her unawares reaching the bathroom door just as she'd exited it, looking mussed, wrapped up in a towel. Nervously, she moved the thick wood handled brush in her hand to the other. He was Guy's friend really, a relatively tall fellow made of quiet muscle, clad in paler than usual white skin. Other than the odd hello they didn't really talk.

Not for the first time, she was glad she couldn't blush visibly.

Tommy, however, was visibly embarrassed even in the dim. He stepped out of the way to let her pass, muttering an apology. Her legs were dewed with droplets still and as she passed he felt the fantastic ass he'd always admired brush briefly against him. A thought popped silently into his head, an unfortunate culmination of earlier frustration.

Mallory's face was a soft O, noise failing to leave her lips. Tommy did not believe in being gentle, not with with a slut like her. He'd told her as much in the hall as he'd dragged, half pushed her into her own room. Less than adequate to begin with, her towel had fallen as she'd tripped onto the bed.

He did not bother to undress, pausing only to snap a condom on. He was glad his cock was up to it today, no time to lose, already she was beginning to get her wits together enough to attempt to raise herself. He put a stop to that using his body weight to hold her down - hands on wrists.

Pain came with the first thrust; continued as he ploughed into her like a man starved. The sequence of events were too fast for her to follow, her mind focused on the details before her. Dark hair on scalp - already thinning at 23, his beer curdled breath flooding into her nostrils.

"How long had he been planning this?" she wondered turning her face away.

"Oh? Don't wanna look?" he asked, jovial and still thrusting. "That's fine by me."

Grabbing her hips he flipped her over - deciding now to disrobe. She thought to use this as an opportunity to scramble up and off the bed but as she went to do so he caught her by the ankle, catching the other when she went to kick him, pulling her ass first towards him at the same time. Despite herself, she marvelled at the manoeuvre just as a long satisfied moan escaped Tommy's lips. Her insides were full of him yet he had not cum. He was very simply - thick, she reckoned. The size and girth of his manhood stretched her though he did not yet move. It seemed the satisfied moan had come of his enjoyment at having total control over her. A possessive pawing of her rotund behind seemed to confirm this. Slowly he began to fuck her, kneeling into the bed, driving himself deeper by use of angles.

Physics eh? What a bitch. Mallory noted this thought pass her mind,whilst his hands sought her sides, cupping her breasts in an almost caress - working their way upwards to a decidedly firm grip about her sodden tresses.

At this, a warmth flooded within her being and, as though in response, whatever slow savouring he'd been at as until now, it was over. Her body shook with the force of his fucking her. Using her. Small noises began to bubble out her mouth.

Al looked to the hallway, wondering what on God's green earth was keeping Tommy. It occurred to him he should go check on him, lest the greasy bastard was having a smoke in the bathroom. When nervous he was prone to lighting up a joint, which was fine but how the fuck could he be so upset over some gentle ribbing? Al was still considering the door to the hallway, when an almighty scream rang through the flat.

A hand snaked down to her throat, placing a pressure clear in meaning. Tommy couldn't believe it, her eyes, god her eyes welling up with tears even as he felt her body finally open up to him. He moved slickly in and out of her now surprised such a petite body could hold such depths. She seemed to be enjoying herself now, the slut. Her cunt pulsated again, obviously greedy for his cum. He forced himself to slow down, taking a moment to savour the sight.

Mallory felt utterly confused. Tommys grip, one around her neck the other still using her hair as a makeshift reign, could hardly be considered restraint at this stage. Yet here she was helpless, helpless before the sensations overpowering her. At him overpowering her.

Al hurried down the hall, concerned. That hadn't been the scream of a man caught in a bad BM. That hadn't been a man's scream at all. Quiet creaking reached his ears as he neared the junction where the hall split to his room and Mal's. It grew louder as he noted the bathroom door was not only open but the room itself empty. Panic grew in him.

The door burst open. Mallory's knees lay slung over to one side as Tommy, hand still on her neck, now lying beside her, fucked her with what can only be described as gleeful abandon. A quick glance showed a considerable damp patch on the duvet. Al, sucking air through his teeth, coughed loudly - knocking on the now open door.


It goes without saying, Tommy felt a bit caught out. There he was balls deep into the ass of the woman he'd wanted with an almost aching need and here came this bastard, ruining shit as usual. Looking Al in the eye he placed a sticky kiss on Mallory's head, before none to gently giving her one last hard thrust. To his delight Mallory whimpered. With slow deliberate grace, he pulled out of her, clambered off the bed and pulled his pants on.

Mallory eyed the scene through the haze that had befallen her. Tommy seemed unconcerned by being caught. Buttoning his shirt as Al stood there in the doorway, turning a dark red shade approaching beetroot. Whatever quiet calm the sudden interruption had brought was broken, as Tommy began to hum. She watched her Ikea made vanity disappear in an explosion of splinters as Guy, perhaps tipped over by this last feckless action, tackled Tommy.

There's only so much a cup of tea can help with. Yet funnily as she gazed into the mug it was all she wanted. Reaching into the space behind the sugar bowl she thought how odd it was. That then, cum dripping out of her as two grown ass men reduced the many fragile trinkets in her room to tiny multicoloured fragments, was when she remembered where she hid this. The end result, once the contents of the small packet and thin paper had been formed together with shaky hands, was surprisingly neat. She'd snuck out on shaky feet, grabbing a grey kimono robe out the bathroom hamper, pausing only to apply some make up in the still misted mirror. It'd seemed important that. So there she stood, now in an empty kitchen, face instagram ready, smoking a joint.

"You alright?" Guy asked.

She had barely noticed the commotion move to the living room behind her; didn't hear the door slam, nor the crunch of gravel as a very tall and slightly overweight young man was chased down the driveway. In fact it wasn't until the kettle beside her came to a boil she snapped out her reverie.

Green lidded eyes swiveled to face him. She took in his busted lip and the small cuts along his jaw.

"Fine," she answered.

The spoon in Als hand made a gentle clink as it caught the edges of the cup. He'd a preferred whiskey but it lay in the drawer behind Mal. Reaching for it would mean possibly brushing past her at breast level. For some reason he didn't want to touch her. She looked resplendent in grey, the small green leaves on her gown matching her colourful make up. What more, the way the slinky robe clung to her, he could see the shape of her nipples peaking through the thin fabric, curve of her hips drawing up the hem - he caught himself. Ashamed to be thinking such thoughts at a time like this. She must have noticed something in his gaze as a sudden smirk darted across her face.

"What you want a have a go too, do ya?" Her voice had shed the flatness of the local tongue, her country accent slipping through.

"N-n no, I - I wouldn't, I," as he stammered she narrowed her eyes at him before turning her back to him. The movement swirled her hem, flashing thigh.

He looked away, taking a nervous sip of his cup. When she turned back, the Glenfiddich was in her hand. Two shot glasses were slammed down beside it onto the counter. She filled one, knocked it back, refilled the glass, poured it into her tea

"Relax you daft bollix, sure I know you're not like that."

The second shot glass was filled, and passed to him.

They drank their fortified teas in silence. The rest of the Glenfiddich soon followed. It'd been only half full to begin with, a Christmas present that'd somehow lasted the whole year.

Al marvelled as she tucked it away - shot after shot, all the while still standing. After awhile, he felt the need to sit on the low stool placed half way into the living area. There was a procedure for this kind of thing, his foggy mind told him: some sort of kit, a pill and - therapy was it? She seemed to be engaged in her own procedure of sorts. After every shot, which she would look at before drinking, several long pulls of the rather quickly disappearing cigarillo. He considered if he should say something.

Mallory watched Guy drink in silence beside her, poor Guy, he'd never been one much for words. He also, since she'd caught him staring, been fixated by the smoke coiling from her joint. God love him, he meant well didn't he? Sitting here, drinking his precious aged whiskey, all so as to not leave her alone after - that.

"Oh yeah, scream you slut." he'd smacked her ass, driving deeper into her. As much as he enjoyed hurting her, letting loose both that scream and the warm clear fluid that had geysered out of her, had turned him on all the same. The hand about her neck had tightened.

Mallory blinked, back in the kitchen again, her own hand stroking her neck. Suddenly her chest felt tight. She ignored the feeling, focusing on steadying her hand as she poured another. Followed the liquids flow, held up the glass, looked at it in the light. Focused on the burn as it slid down her throat, her one untouched orifice.

He'd released her hips long enough to lie beside her. With hope she'd thought he must be exhausted, as he'd put her legs together and turned them aside as though looking for more space. A hope shattered as he too had turned onto his side, then with a grope of a cheek introduced his still wet shaft to her very much less lubricated rectum.

Overpriced glassware shattering unto hard tile is what brought her back this time. Guy had set his own glass down and had his arms half out to her as if unsure what to do. It appeared she was crouched on the floor and the tightness in her chest had become a solid vice gripping her entire upper torso. Her breath came out ragged and fat tears fell out her eyes as if in a hurry to kiss parched ground.

Her robe had come open, spilling out her breasts and the view gave all away. He stood there awkwardly a moment. Accidental boner be damned, he scooped her up and carried her out of the kitchen. He began to go towards her room then reconsidered turning right in the hallway towards his.

Upon being plopped on his bed, her wailing intensified. It took a while to soothe her. It seemed despite her words earlier, she was in no way assured that he wouldn't try and rape her next. Flustered he scanned the room, eyes landing on a bright blue teddy bear on his bookshelf. Gingerly he placed it in her hands. The noise abruptly stopped. Mal appraised the soft toy, then burst out laughing.

It was obvious she wasn't going to sleep in her own room that night. To be fair he wouldn't want her to, so he let her have the bed. He himself pulled out an old sleeping bag and placed it over the rug on the floor.

They made stilted small chat then; revelling in the great British art of talking an absolute lot about very little at all, until the late hours saw them both succumb to sleepiness. He waited until he could see her chest rising evenly with gentle little snores before turning off the light.

Mal woke with a start. This wasn't her room! It took her awhile to get her bearings then she remembered. The moon made silver shapes of the room about her. She saw the silhouette of the blue teddy on the bedside table. A small smile appeared on her lips. Stoic Guy was turning out to be a real softy himself. She gazed downwards to where he lay.

He woke to the feel of a warm body pressing itself into him. Glancing sideways in the gloom he caught the frizzy outline of her hair. Silently had she unzipped the sleeping bag, quietly she had wrapped her arms about him. Unease filled Al's mind as he wondered if this was some sort of reaction to the day's events.

"I can't," he said feeling his already stiffening cock twitch, "You're not thinking straight."

She was planting small kisses on his neck.

"Yes you can," she cooed nuzzling him now.

He did not move.

"Please Al, you'd be doing me a favour," as her hand moved slowly from about him, downwards.

He placed a hand to stop her.

"I can't. You're like a sister to me."

"Fuck I am, you barely really knew me 'til today."

His flimsy excuse rebuffed, he did not stop her hand this time. She smelt of honey and ginger, with a faint aroma of something herbal. Her kisses, his kisses, theirs now; tasted of the whiskey of earlier. Considering this he paused again, his nose to hers.

"C'mon now Alan, let me have this. Let at least this one thing today be my choice."

Whether it was those words or the soft lilt in which they were spoken, he felt his resolve fold.

The bed creaked softly as he lay her down. He made sure to kiss her passionately, gently biting her plump lips, as he undid the thin robe that had titillated him so earlier. Accessing the curves hidden underneath as she peeled off his drawers, unleashing his cock.

It felt good in her hand she decided, stroking it as he continued to kiss her. This felt good. She rose her legs apart, inviting him in.

"Wait," he whispered, lowering his head.

His hands found her breasts, fondled them, moved on, grasped her hips.

Al took his time using his tongue, circling her clit, flicking it. Mallory sighed in satisfaction, whatever she felt now, this warmth spread differently; flowing softly in waves through her. Al placed a finger in her, checking her wetness. She gave a mew of sorts and pushed down against it. Removing it he pulled it out, raising himself back over her.

The simple truth is Mal, as until today, had never been penetrated. She refused to let what Tommy did to her count as her first time. Al entered her slowly, and she marvelled at the feeling. He was thinner down there, longer too. At no point did she feel any sharp little pains. He seemed to scoop every part of her with each thrust. Quickening his pace and slowing it down on occasion in order to pay her breasts attention. It seemed they made love for hours, and when he ran a probing finger over her face she consented with a nod. His cum ran down her face. He helped her clean up and then fell asleep beside her, embracing her.

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