Adrien turned to face me immediately, rolling onto his left side and wrapping one of his long arms around my waist, pulling me in.
I leaned closer, still a little hesitant to mirror him, but my lips were already reaching for his in a quick, decisive movement. No point overthinking it: we both knew what we wanted.
And just like that, I felt like a teenager again. That rush of something new, the thrill of discovering someone else’s body, especially their mouth. Not quite letting go all the way yet, a little shy, a little clumsy. My face hovered just a few inches from his.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
There was desire in his eyes, but also something else: regret, maybe even shame. He still seemed unsure.
“I don’t care,” I told him softly, trying to reassure him again.
I knew what he’d been doing earlier all alone in his bedroom. I could tell just from being this close to his slightly open mouth, like it was waiting, almost desperate, for a kiss to save him.
So I went for it.
Fully.
Diving into him, my tongue slipping into his mouth without holding back. It felt like I was answering what he’d started the other day downstairs, taking the lead this time, my tongue setting the pace, guiding his in a wild, messy dance.
It was hot, overwhelming at first, but I could feel how much we both needed it, almost desperately in that moment. Like nothing could stop us now except exhaustion.
Adrien quickly found my tongue with his and began circling it, pushing back against me. But I didn’t give in. It turned into something else entirely: a real clash. He seemed used to taking over when he kissed someone, while I was still discovering this kind of deep, intense, almost physical kiss. Maybe I didn’t know all the “rules” yet, but I wanted to lose myself in his mouth just as much.
I moved closer, bracing myself on my right elbow, my left hand finally resting against his side. Then it started to move on its own, following the rhythm of the kiss, sliding across his back.
Wow.
He was big. There was no denying it. Warm, too. His skin soft, even with the faint trace of hair under my fingertips along his lower back. But it was really his size, his strength, that struck me most.
Still lost in the kiss, I felt his hand slide up to the back of my neck, then grip the base of my skull, anchoring me there, like he didn’t want me to pull away.
Fuck… why does this feel so good?
His hand stayed there, firm and certain, like a promise that this desire wasn’t going anywhere.
He shifted again, dropping back slightly while throwing his right leg over mine, trying to get even closer. And I couldn’t resist him.
Then there was his scent: still that warm, woody smell and the faint dampness building along his back as the minutes passed. We were still locked in what could barely be called just a never-ending kiss. No breaks. No second thoughts.
The longest kiss of my life.
Sometimes my thoughts drifted: little flashes breaking through. Insecurities like, am I even a good kisser? Or strange questions like, why does kissing him feel better than any of my exes? Or quieter, more dangerous wishes: I want him to stay here tonight. For real.
He was the one who finally pulled away, his head resting on my pillow, right in front of mine, lips still parted and wet.
“Fuck… sorry.” He covered his mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
He kept his hand there for a second, then looked away, embarrassed.
“I drank too much.”
Maybe a burp, or just the taste catching up to him.
“It’s okay. I get it,” I said gently.
“I should’ve rinsed my mouth.”
I wanted to hold him, but I already kind of was; and he looked like he regretted letting me kiss him at all.
“Hey… lie on your back,” I said, realizing I was starting to take the lead now. “Let me handle it.”
Adrien, eyes still a little hazy, shifted and lay back like I asked. He looked nervous, but he trusted me.
Instead of going back to his mouth, I dipped down to his neck.
I remembered how much I used to love it when my ex did that to me: how she’d take her time, licking slowly along it.
So I followed that instinct. My tongue suddenly felt small tracing the length of his strong, warm throat. I brushed past his Adam’s apple, then came back to it, licking over it deliberately, my tongue fitting perfectly against its shape.
Adrien didn’t say anything, but the soft sounds slipping from him told me everything I needed to know.
I moved lower, down to his chest. His pecs weren’t as defined as Greg’s or Julien’s—but definitely more than mine. Warm, firm… and his nipples, slightly hardened, almost begging for attention.
“Aaah—!”
The sound slipped out of him when my tongue circled one, hungry, almost desperate. I latched onto him like I hadn’t eaten in days, eyes closing as I focused on the sensation.
It was different from a woman’s chest (obviously) but the shape, the strength… it was just as intriguing. Just as erotic to explore.
Had I really been holding this back all these years?
Why did this feel so natural?
Running my mouth over another man’s body, like some part of me had always known it—like there was a strange familiarity even in the differences.
I kept going, moving lower, my tongue flicking across his abs in quick, eager strokes. They tensed under me, reacting, resisting.
I could feel something shifting in him: growing, changing, opening up as I explored him in the dim light of the room. When I reached his stomach, I felt how lean he was, tight muscle under my tongue, no softness at all.
Adrien wasn’t just the quiet, intellectual type. He was fit. Balanced in a way that made him even more… compelling.
I kept lowering my mouth, inch by inch, until I reached the waistband of his boxer.
“Wait.”
I lifted my head then, a little startled by his reaction. My favorite biologist looked like he was rethinking every life decision all at once: you could see it on his face, slick with a light sheen of sweat: fear, desire, and something close to losing himself, all tangled together.
“I don’t know…” he said, right on the edge, like he might confess something serious. “Don’t feel like you have to.”
Have to?
Not a chance.
I couldn’t help but smile:
“I want to, Adrien. I really do,” I reassured him softly. “But… what about you?”
He nodded, lips still slightly parted:
“It’s just… maybe not the best mom—”
“No. I want to,” he cut in, almost urgently, like he needed to convince himself as much as me.
He hesitated again:
“It’s just that… my dick.”
What about it?
He shifted on his elbows, avoiding my gaze for a second:
“I’d rather warn you,” he said, finally meeting my eyes. “It’s… different.”
Different how?
God, the suspense.
I slid my hand over the warm, padded bulge beneath his waistband and felt it immediately: long, solid, unmistakably there. I’d already imagined it before, glimpsed the outline through his boxers in the morning, but this was something else.
“It’s just… you’ll see,” he muttered, still unable to say it outright. “It’s shaped a bit differently.”
I let out a breath, half-laughing:
“Adrien, I really don’t care.”
“Then go on,” he said suddenly, cutting the tension with a sharp burst of resolve. He covered his face with both hands. “Go ahead.”
My hands trembled a little, anticipation buzzing through me. I grabbed the waistband of his boxer briefs and slowly pulled them down.
It felt like unwrapping a Christmas present early—pure, restless excitement.
I was finally going to see his cock!
The first thing that struck me was the hair: thick, dark, dense, far more than mine. It spread like a deep forest, and his scent hit me right away, warm and unmistakable beneath the faint trace of sweat.
But that was just the beginning.
As I lowered the fabric further, I caught sight of the base: already impressive, darker, heavier, thicker than I expected.
And then it kept going.
His length just… didn’t seem to end.
He wasn’t as thick as Greg, maybe even a bit slimmer than Julien, but length-wise?
Adrien might’ve been the winner.
The true king of the flat.
By the time I reached the head, I could feel the tension in it, the way it pressed insistently against the last bit of fabric holding it back, like it was ready to break free.
I glanced up at him, teasing, letting the moment stretch just a little longer.
Then I pulled the last of the fabric down in one quick motion.
It sprang free.
A sharp, sudden movement, striking up against my face before sliding across my cheek, ending upright, right in front of my eyes.
Damn.
His dick actually hit me.
I’d wanted that (I had even placed myself over his package in anticipation), sure, but I hadn’t expected that kind of force. There was something almost… alive about it. Strong. Immediate. Like it was announcing itself.
And it didn’t drop.
It stayed there: angled upward, firm, almost defiant. If anything, it seemed to lift even more as the seconds passed, the tip pointing straight up, right in front of me.
Oh.
That’s why.
Now I understood.
“Curvy.”
Julien hadn’t picked that nickname randomly.
I’d knew cocks could vary in shapes and length, just like any body part really, but this?
This was something else.
It curved upward in a way I’d never seen before. Not just a slight tilt: this was pronounced. Intentional, almost. As if it were reaching upward, drawn toward something higher, like it wanted to see the stars on my bedroom’s ceiling.
It leaned a little to the left too (nothing unusual there, I had pretty much the same thing) but that wasn’t what made it stand out.
No, it was the arc.
Like it was aiming for the sky.
The image made me smile.
It was… kinda beautiful.
“Steph…?” Adrien’s voice pulled me back. Small. Uncertain. “Is it… okay?”
He sounded almost scared.
“You don’t like it?”
I looked up at him, still smiling!
“What are you talking about? It’s amazing.”
His light-colored eyes widened, surprise flashing across his face as I laughed.
“Really?”
“Hey,” I said, running my hands gently along his damp thighs, grounding him. “You don’t need to be ashamed of anything. It’s long as hell… and it’s got a great shape.”
That finally got a smile out of him: relief softening his features.
“Thanks,” he said with a quiet laugh, scratching the back of his head the way he always did when he got embarrassed. “I was worried that—”
“Relax,” I cut in gently.
I wrapped my right hand around the upper part of him and realized immediately I wasn’t even covering half of it.
Yeah… this was going to take some practice.
But the thought didn’t intimidate me.
Julien had already trained me pretty well to take some massive dicks.
I would show him how much I can suck when I’m motivated.
If anything, it made my pulse spike.
I adjusted my grip, bringing my other hand in, and without really thinking about it, I fell into the rhythm I’d learned before: the slow, deliberate movement, watching the head up close, noticing the way it reacted, the subtle changes, the warmth under my fingers, the veins pulsing, the texture, the weight.
Everything about it was new.
And exciting.
A different body. A different feel. A different response.
I was more confident too: I knew what worked, at least in part, but discovering him, his scent, his shape, the way he moved under my touch…
That was something else entirely.
“I think I already like it,” I murmured under my breath while I was stroking him slowly, his long cock pumping precum from time to time at the tip.
“Wait…”
I paused, my hands still resting on his shaft, the warmth of his body grounding me even as my thoughts started to race ahead.
“Adrien…” I began quietly.
He shifted slightly beneath me, his eyes searching mine, still a little uncertain despite the moment we were sharing.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He hesitated, then exhaled slowly:
“I just… I don’t know what happens after this.”
“After what?” I asked, even though I knew.
He gave a small, almost nervous huff:
“After this. You and me. If we go further.”
His gaze dropped for a second before coming back to me.
“I don’t want to mess things up,” he added. “With you… or here. With the others.”
“Julien and Greg?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Yeah. I mean… we all live together. And you’ve got… your thing with them too. What if I want more than them?”
That made something tighten in my chest:
“then I’ll adapt.” I stopped myself, unsure how to answer him. “We will adapt if we need...”
“Thing is,” he cut in softly. “I’m not sure I want what we share now to change, you understand?”
I shifted a little closer, lowering my voice.
“Hey… look at me.”
He did.
“It doesn’t have to change anything,” I said. “Not unless you want it to.”
He studied my face, like he was trying to measure how true that was.
“And you?” he asked. “What do you want?”
I hesitated this time.
Right now, I want to suck your fucking beautiful cock.
But...
He noticed immediately.
“Is this just… fun for you? Like...” he gestured vaguely between us, searching for the words. “Sex friends? Like you do with the others?”
His voice dropped even lower.
“Or… is it different? Cause’ I’m pretty much lost with my feelings right now.”
My heart started beating faster.
“It’s…” I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “It’s not the same.”
He stilled.
“Not the same how?” he asked, almost cautiously.
I could feel the anxiety creeping in now, that familiar edge of panic when something real was about to come out.
“There’s so many things,” I admitted at first, my hands still gripping his shaft tightly. “It just...”
I looked at him again:
“It feels more important with you.”
He didn’t interrupt, but I saw a faint smile on his face.
It was true. I couldn’t hide it anymore.
Because you calm me down, because I think about you when you’re not there, because this doesn’t feel like a game.
My throat tightened.
“I think…” I started, then stopped, my pulse loud in my ears. “Well...”
Say it.
“I think I’m starting to have feelings for you.”
END OF THE THIRD ACT OF
HOW I BECAME MY ROOMMATES’ SLUT
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