The flat was a shoebox in East London. One bedroom each, one bathroom between us, kitchen barely big enough for two people to stand in. Rent was brutal but splitting it kept me from drowning. When Finn answered the ad I figured I had hit the jackpot. Australian, twenty seven, personal trainer. Tall enough to make the ceilings feel low, blond hair always messy from the gym, tan that looked permanent even in winter. He showed up with two duffels and a protein shaker, flashed that easy grin, said “G’day mate, let’s make this work.”
First week was straightforward. He cooked chicken and rice every night, left the place smelling like garlic and sweat. Polite. Clean. The kind of guy who wiped the sink after shaving.
But he had this one habit.
Every morning the shower door stayed cracked. Not wide open. Just enough. He said it was for the steam. “Helps my skin, bro. Keeps the pores happy.” I believed him at first. Then I started brushing my teeth at the same time he showered.
Steam poured into the hallway. I caught glimpses through the gap. Water running down his back, tracing the lines of his shoulders, collecting in the dimples above his arse. Soapy bubbles sliding slow over the curve of his cheeks, vanishing into the crack. And lower. His cock hanging heavy between his thighs. Thick even when soft. Uncut. The light pink head peeking out every time he shifted his weight. Balls loose from the heat. I looked away fast every time. Heart pounding. Told myself it was nothing. Just a bloke showering. Just anatomy.
But I kept looking.
Weeks passed. The glimpses became routine. He showered longer when he knew I was awake. Sometimes I heard the water change rhythm. Slower strokes. A low exhale. Once I peeked and saw his hand wrapped around the base, sliding lazy up and down. Not frantic. Just enjoying the heat. Eyes closed. Head tipped back. My cock twitched in my boxers. I backed out silent, went to my room, stroked myself quick and quiet thinking about the way soapy bubbles clung to his shaft.
I hated how easy it was to picture him naked. Hated how often I did it.
The flat turned into an oven. Summer arrived hard. No fan in my room. Windows stuck. I slept in boxers, sheets kicked off. Finn walked around shirtless most evenings, shorts low on his hips. V line sharp enough to cut. I tried not to stare. Failed.
One morning the heat was suffocating. I woke up sticky, hard from a dream I couldn’t remember. Heard the shower start. Door cracked like always.
I needed to piss. Brushed my teeth instead. Peeked again. Finn soaping his chest, bubbles running over his nipples, down his abs, collecting at his cock. He was half hard. Not stroking. Just letting the water hit it. I swallowed. My own cock strained against cotton.
He turned. Caught my eye through the gap.
Didn’t flinch. Just smiled. Small. Knowing.
“Oi. You waiting for the bathroom?”
I mumbled something. Backed off.
Later that day the flat felt like a sauna. Windows open did nothing. Fan broken. Finn came home from training soaked. Tank top clinging. Shorts dark with sweat. He stripped it off in the living room without thinking. Tossed it in the hamper. Looked at me on the couch.
“Shower’s calling. Join if you want. Save water. It’s boiling out there.”
I laughed it off. “Nah mate. You go.”
He shrugged. Walked to the bathroom. Left the door cracked wider than usual.
I sat there. Cock already thickening. Listened to the water start. Pictured him under it. Soapy. Hard.
Five minutes later he called out.
“Seriously, come in. It’s too hot to waste water. We’re both blokes.”
My pulse spiked. I stood. Walked to the door. Pushed it open a bit more.
Finn stood under the spray. Naked. Water streaming over every ridge. Cock thicker now. Semi hard and pointing forward. He looked at me. Grinned.
“Get in, mate.”
I stripped slow. Boxers last. Stepped under the water. Hot. Close. Our shoulders brushed.
He handed me the soap. “Lather up.”
I did. Hands shaking a little. He turned so his back faced me. Started soaping his own chest again. I watched soapy bubbles slide down his spine, over his arse.
He glanced over his shoulder.
“Back’s hard to reach. Spot me?”
I swallowed. Put my hands on his shoulders. Soaped slow. Felt muscle flex under skin. Moved lower. Down his back. To the top of his arse.
He pushed back just enough. Cheeks parting slightly.
My cock brushed his thigh. Hard now. Leaking.
He reached behind. Found my wrist. Guided my hand around to his front.
Wrapped my fingers around his shaft.
Thick. Hot. Wet with soap.
He exhaled. “Feels good yeah?”
I stroked. Slow. Matching his rhythm when he reached back and gripped mine.
We stood like that. Water pounding. Steam thick. Hands on each other. Cocks sliding in palms. Precum mixing with bubbles. His breathing got shallower.
He turned. Faced me. Our cocks bumped. Slid together.
Eyes locked.
What the fuck are we doing.
The words stayed locked in my head. Never came out. Water pounded the tiles. Finn turned back and kept lathering himself up with his ass jiggling forcing me to stare at him.
“For a bloke you got a proper banger of an arse mate. Fucking stacked. Double caked up like you live in the squat rack.”, I said.
He laughed low. Water dripping from his lashes. “Yeah? You wanna feel it?”
“Shit. Fuck man. I ain’t gay.”, I said as my eyes stayed on his butt.
He glanced down. My cock was rock hard. Throbbing. Almost brushing the cleft of his arse already. Precum beading at the tip. Mixing with the soap bubbles.
“Well your cock doesn't seem to think that.”
He turned again. Slow. Presented his back. Bent just enough at the waist. Hands braced on the wall. Cheeks parting under the spray. Soapy. Wet. Inviting.
“Shit, fuck”, I left out a moan.
I stepped closer. Heart slamming. Cock sliding between his cheeks. Up and down the crack. Slow. Deliberate. Head catching on his hole every pass. Teasing. Not pushing in. Not yet.
The soap made everything glide. Wet. Hot. His arse clenched once. Then relaxed. Letting me rut deeper into the cleft.
“Fuck yeah mate, feels good.” His voice came out rough. Breathy. He pushed back. Matching my rhythm. Cheeks swallowing my shaft. Head nudging his pucker again and again.
I gripped his hips. Fingers digging into wet skin. Thrusting slow between those thick cheeks. Precum leaking. Mixing with bubbles. Dripping down his thighs with the shower water.
He reached back. Found my cock. Guided the head right to his hole.
“You wanna fuck me?”
I didn't answer with words. Just pressed forward.
“Slow mate. Yeah. Like that.”
The head popped past the ring. Tight. Hot. Wet. His hole gripped me like it was made for this. I slid in inch by inch. Raw. No rubber. Just skin on skin. Steam and soap and heat.
He exhaled hard. Head dropping forward. Water streaming over his shoulders. Down his back. Soapy bubbles trailing in white rivers. Dripping over where we joined.
I bottomed out. Hips flush against his arse. Held there. Feeling him pulse around me. Clench and release. Milking without moving.
Then I started thrusting. Slow. Deep. Controlled. Water covered the sound. Muffled the wet slap of skin on skin. Every pull back his hole clung. Every push in he took me easier. Wetter. Looser.
“Fuck. So fuckin’ tight mate.”
He pushed back harder. Met every thrust. Quiet grunts punched out of him. Barely audible over the spray.
“Deeper mate. Right there.”
I angled up. Hit something that made him shudder. His cock jumped. Leaked steady now. Strings of precum dangling. Washing away.
I reached around. Wrapped my hand around his cock. Stroked in time with my thrusts. Soapy. Wet.
He groaned low. Body tightening.“Gonna cum.”
His hole fluttered. Clenched hard. I felt the first pulse. Hot ropes shooting across the tiles. Splattering white against the wall. Then rinsing it clean under the water.
The squeeze pushed me over. I buried my cock deep inside him. Held it there for a while until I came. Thick pulses flooding his guts. His hole milking every drop. Pulling it deeper.
I stayed inside a minute. Softening slow. Feeling my cum start to leak out through his hole and around my cock. Warm. Thick. Mixing with soap and water. Dripping down his inner thigh in slow white trails.
I pulled out carefully. Watched more cum leak. His hole winking. Pink. Used. Cum bubbling at the rim before the shower washed it away.
We stood there panting. Water still running. Steam thick.
He straightened. Turned. Grinned again. Grabbed the soap. Lathered his chest like nothing happened.
“Good save on the water bill.”
I laughed. Shaky. Grabbed a towel. Stepped out first.
Next morning he was in the kitchen. Low towel slung on his hips. Making protein shakes. Blender whirring. Towel slipped a fraction when he reached for the scoop. Showing the top of his arse. Still a bit red from my grip.
“Shower’s free if you want seconds mate.”
He said it casual. Eyes flicking to mine. Smirk tugging his mouth.
I took the shake he offered. Fingers brushed. Lingered.
“Yeah. Might do.”
The flat felt smaller now. Hotter. Better.
That’s the advantage of having a roommate like Finn. Who showers naked with his door open.
You never run out of hot water.
And sometimes you get a ‘hole’ lot more. ;)
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