The next morning, I woke up with a very noticeable bulge in my boxers.
Ah… the joys of being a guy.
What could I do about it, after all? Maybe hearing Greg moan so loudly with that girl last night, practically shaking the walls, had turned me on a little, or even completely, if I'm being honest.
Maybe I was even feeling a bit jealous. The fact that this guy could bring a girl home and fuck her in front of practically everyone at the apartment would have seemed like insane behavior to me a few months ago. But now I was thinking that maybe I was a little jealous of them. Well... of him of course!
Well, maybe even…
No…
I kept having those nasty images coming back to my pervert mind: I imagined myself in the place of the girl he'd brought to his bed. I hadn't even seen her, so I could easily imagine myself in her shoes.
What on earth is happening to me?
It was the first time such thoughts had ever crossed my mind. And out of all the guys on earth why would it be with him? I wasn't even attracted ti him, right? Okay, his physique was impressive, but he seemed rather dense and not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. I really couldn't see what I could possibly find hot in him.
But still, I was thinking about him. Fucking me… well, fucking this chick hard on her bed, barely undressed, making her moan at the top of her lungs as his power thrusts were making the whole flat shake.
And thinking about it only made my morning erection stronger.
Damn…
I dragged myself out of bed still half asleep, hair a mess, throat dry. The apartment was quiet, bathed in that soft early light that made everything feel slower, almost unreal.
As I stepped into the living room, I froze.
Adrien was sitting on the couch, legs spread comfortably, wearing nothing but some pair of thigh white boxers with a red waistband. Worst of all: he visibly had a huge thing packed under the fabric because his bulge was very noticeable, even at distance.
A mug of coffee rested in his hand, steam curling lazily into the air. He looked completely at ease, shoulders relaxed, (very) long legs stretched out under the living room table. This looked like the most normal thing in the world to him.
For me, though, it definitely wasn’t.
I’d never really lived with other guys like this before. Sure, I’d seen my younger brother in underwears or even naked plenty of times growing up, but this was… different. This was a grown man I barely knew. My now roommate. And the idea that I’d have to get used to this kind of scene on a daily basis was, to say the least, a little intimidating.
I quickly looked away and headed straight for the sink, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, trying to act casual.
“Morning Steph,” Adrien said calmly, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Hey,” I replied, my voice a bit rough.
I drank, probably a bit too fast, and despite myself, my eyes drifted back toward him for just a second longer than necessary. I cleared my throat.
“So… uh,” I said, gesturing vaguely with my glass, “is this the usual dress code around here?”
Adrien smiled, then stood up, stretching his tall, broad frame without a hint of self-consciousness, making his package bounce a bit right under my eyes:
“Yeah,” he said simply. “Boxers-only is kind of the default here.. but you do you I guess.”
He yawned, completely unfazed.
I nodded slowly, swallowing the last of my water, already realizing that this colocation was going to push me way out of my comfort zone.
Adrien moved over to the sink, rinsing his mug under the tap. The quiet sound of running water filled the room for a moment, comfortable.
“Hey,” he said casually, without turning around. “By the way… would you mind if we finally moved some of my ex’s stuff out of your room?”
I looked up at him, intrigued:
“It’s just… still feels a bit too close for me right now,” he went on, scrubbing the inside of the mug. “It’s only been a week. I don’t wanna throw anything out, but I was thinking of putting it all in my room instead of having it spread everywhere.”
“Yeah, of course,” I said right away. “No problem at all.”
I hesitated for half a second, then added:
“I can help you move it, if you want.”
Adrien glanced back at me, genuinely appreciative:
“That’s nice of you,” he said with a small smile. “Yeah, I’d appreciate that. Could be a bit painful to go through all that stuff again."
He set the mug down to dry and stretched again, calmer now, like a weight had lifted just from saying it out loud.
“Thanks, Steph.”
“No worries,” I replied.
We ended up kneeling on the floor together, sorting through what was left behind. Old books stacked unevenly against the wall, a few CDs in cracked cases (mostly rap and pop music from the 2000's that made me a bit nostalgic), clothes folded in hesitant piles. It felt strangely intimate, going through someone else’s things like that, especially knowing who they belonged to.
Adrien picked things up one by one, commenting under his breath.
“God, she loved this band… played it on repeat,” he muttered with a small, bitter smile, setting a CD aside. “No idea why I ever liked that album honestly.”
I mostly stayed quiet, handing him books or tossing obvious trash into a bag. When it came to clothes, I helped, up to a point. But when I noticed some of her bras and lingerie mixed in with the rest, I froze for a second, heat creeping up my neck.
“Uh… I’ll let you handle those,” I said softly, pulling my hand back.
Adrien glanced at me, amused, not judging:
“Yeah, fair enough.”
He grabbed them without hesitation, stuffing them into a bag like it was nothing. The contrast between his ease and my awkwardness only made me more aware of how close we were, shoulders almost touching as we worked.
At one point, as he leaned forward to reach under the bed, his knee brushed against my leg.
Then it stayed there.
Just resting lightly against me, solid and warm. I stayed still, unsure whether to move or not, my attention suddenly very focused on that single point of contact.
A few seconds later, he shifted away, just as casually:
“That should be it,” Adrien said, tying up a bag and standing. “Thanks for the help dude, really.”
“No problem,” I replied, getting to my feet too.
He picked up the bags, gave me a small, grateful smile, and headed out toward his room.
As the door closed behind him, I stood there for a moment longer, the room feeling emptier, but I kinda liked it more this way. Maybe it was time to have my own place now.
The next day was 1st day, and the campus was packed. New faces everywhere, clusters of students standing around with that same mix of excitement and uncertainty I was feeling. The morning was mostly taken up by meetings with the directors of the Master’s program in History, which involved the classic overlong speeches about expectations, research paths, methodology, all the usual stuff.
Nothing too exciting really.
And most of the time, I kept being distracted by the thoughts of my roommates messing up with my brain.
I exchanged a few words with other students here and there, small talk mostly. With so many newcomers, it felt hard to really connect, and my shyness didn’t help. Everyone seemed to already be forming little groups, while I stayed slightly on the outside, observing more than participating.
Three hours later, it was basically over. Just like that.
Before heading back home, I stopped by a supermarket to stock up: rice, pasta, vegetables, eggs, a few basics. I also spotted a bakery around the corner which seemed nice and grabbed a couple of baguettes.
When I finally walked back to the apartment, bags in hand, it felt strange but reassuring to think that I was already getting into a routine.
Except I was about to be faced with a brand new kind of routine!
When I came back from campus, arms loaded with grocery bags, I heard noise coming from the living room before I even dropped my keys.
Music was playing, way too loud, and when I stepped in, I froze. Julien was there, in nothing but in some compression boxers that caught my eyes (I had actually never seen someone wear this kind of undies before), doing squats in front of the TV while following what looked like a YouTube “dryland training for swimmers” video... except he was clearly half improvising, half flexing at his own reflection in the dark screen. At one point he even slapped his thighs and muttered something.
I immediately looked away, pretending to be extremely invested in taking my shoes off.
“Uh... hey,” I said, aiming my voice at the floor.
At first he didn't even hear me, my voice covered by the noise from the TV.
"Hey Julien!"
“Hey man,” Julien replied without stopping his broad squatts. “You’re back already?”
I nodded, still not really daring to look straight at him:
“Yeah. First day stuff. Lots of people. Lots of talking. My brain’s fried.”
“Perfect then,” he said cheerfully. “Come for a swim with me this afternoon.”
That made me glance up, just for a second. He was still in briefs. Still sweaty. Still completely unfazed.
“Swimming?” I repeated. “Like… now?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a lane in an hour.” He finally stopped moving and grabbed a towel. “You got your swimsuit?”
“I mean… yeah I have one hear,” I admitted. “Haven’t really swum in a while though.”
“No worries man,” he said with a grin, stepping closer. “I’ll teach you a few things. Always better swimming with buddies right? Motivation and all.”
I hesitated, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The image of my very normal, very academic day contrasted sharply with… whatever this was:
“Okay,” I said finally. “Why not.”
“Nice,” Julien replied, already turning the music back up. “Go drop your stuff. We’re leaving in ten."
Julien led me to his favorite pool, a big municipal one tucked between two streets I’d already walked past a dozen times without really noticing.
As soon as we got to the front desk, chlorine and disinfectant were in my nostrils for good. A mix of scents that instantly brought back memories of school swimming lessons and awkward teenage changing rooms. Not the best times in my life honestly...
We took two locker room cabins right next to each other. I closed the thin door behind me, suddenly very aware of how long it had been since I’d done this with someone else around. Through the gap under the partitions, I saw Julien’s movements without really meaning to. His shorts dropped casually to the tiled floor, followed by his underwear, then his white socks, one after the other, abandoned on the cold ground. He didn’t hesitate for a second, completely at ease, like this was the most natural thing in the world.
I, on the other hand, just stood there for a moment, staring at my own reflection in the slightly scratched mirror, swimsuit still folded in my hands. I felt weirdly frozen, caught between watching him without wanting to and forgetting to undress myself altogether. Get a grip, Steph. You’re here to swim.
Julien was done in no time. I heard his locker slam shut, then his footsteps stopping right in front of my cabin. A couple of seconds later, a light knock on the door.
“Hey, you good in there?” he asked, perfectly casual.
“Uh—yeah, yeah,” I replied, snapping out of it. “All good.”
“Take your time,” he said with a chuckle. “We’ve got the lane to ourselves for a bit anyway.”
I finally started changing, my movements a little clumsier than I’d like to admit, while on the other side Julien hummed softly to himself, already completely ready to dive in.
The scents.
His voice behind the door.
It reminded me something long repressed.
I remembered one afternoon in particular, back in high school. I’d been changing after practice and, without really meaning to, I’d stared a little too long at one of the guys from my group. He had bright red hair, freckles, and this stupidly warm smile, the kind that made you feel instantly at ease. He was laughing while pulling on his underwear, completely relaxed while I was watching.
He never noticed me looking… or maybe he did and just didn’t care. Either way, that moment had stuck with me way more than it should have.
Being with those roommates now was kinda feeling that exciting, forbidden thrill all over again.
The echo of voices and splashing water in the pool snapped me back to the present. I realized I was still standing there, half-dressed, towel hanging awkwardly around my neck, doing absolutely nothing.
A couple of seconds later, I heard a knock on the thin wooden panel of my cabin.
“Yo, Steph? You alive in there?” he asked, amused.
I felt the fabric tighten against my backside.
Fuck.
My red swimsuit was a little too tight for me. And the boner I had was on full display!
I had obviously grown a bit since the last time I wore it, and I was now a bit hesitant to go out like that.
Had I made a mistake?
No, it was definitely my swimsuit.
I have to admit, I had a rather large butt for a guy. My ex girlfriend had even remarked once that I had a bigger ass than her. It was both flattering and funny in a way.
What would Julien say if he saw me like this? My butt squeezed into a swimsuit this way.
I opened the door, anxious to know what fate awaited me.
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