Perfect Game

Erotic short. Charlie’s roommate is having a loud hook-up, again.

2.1k, rated E. Cis M/trans M. Charlie and Gaiden have been friends for years, but Charlie is getting tired of Gaiden’s hook-ups. So is Gaiden.

Featuring some voyeurism, creampies, vaginal sex, vaginal spanking and spanking threats, some dirty talk, messy sex, mild D/s, friends-to-fucking. Terms used for Gaiden’s bits are cock, cunt, and pussy.

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­Another fucking Grindr hook-up, Charlie thinks, because of fucking course it is. It’s a goddamn Tuesday afternoon, and Charlie had been watching TV sprawled on the couch, just kind of scrolling on his phone, and fucking waiting for him, waiting for Gaiden — they’re going out at five to go bowling and eat.

It’s four-twelve.

He can hear Gaiden’s whines in between the pounding of his fucking headrest against the wall, hear the guy — probably another rugby player, it’s always rugby players or other big hunks of flesh and muscle when Charlie catches glimpses of them leaving — going, “Yeah, you like that? You’re so fucking pretty like this, you like how that feels, my cock inside you? Yeah?”

Gaiden moans loud and low, the sound he makes when he’s coming, and a few minutes after that, Charlie hears the pounding against the wall slow, then come to a stop as the big guy grunts like a fucking animal.

Gaiden is —

Christ.

What the fuck is Gaiden?

He and Charlie have been roommates for three years now, have been working together for seven, known each other for twelve. Hell, Charlie had known Gaiden since before he came out, and he remembers what he’d been like then, average height but somehow always seeming so fucking small in his oversized clothes with his hair too long, always so soft-spoken.

When he’d come into class one morning and almost whispered that he wanted to be called “he”, not “she”, most of the people in the room hadn’t been able to fucking hear him, and Charlie had —

Christ, he doesn’t know.

It had been different then. Gaiden always sat next to Charlie when Charlie was an option even though he almost never said a word, but he’d always lend Charlie a pen when he didn’t have one (most of the time), or hand him tissues. Once, he’d come in after Halloween and had been sneaking leftover candy out of his bag, and Charlie had jokingly whispered he’d narc on him if he didn’t cough up a share.

Gaiden had laughed and turned pink, had slipped a few bars into his hand over the course of class.

Charlie had stood up for him. Loudly barked “he” whenever someone said “she” — although honestly, a lot of people had looked right through Gaiden, hadn’t even noticed him. When he’d started T, things had changed a little, but the big thing had been moving away from his family — he gets on with them, and they’re supportive and shit, he’d just always felt kind of overshadowed by his brother.

They’ve known each other twelve years, been friends for about that long, but Charlie doesn’t think he and Gaiden had really started talking until he was a year on T — Gaiden hadn’t talked to anybody, really, until then.

His brother had come out as trans years before, had gone from blockers straight to a T-puberty, and even his name —

His family had hated it, at first, but Charlie remembered how fucking pleased with it he’d been, when he’d said to Charlie that his mother had asked why he couldn’t pick a name more like Makoto’s when it wasn’t even a name, when no one was called Gaiden, and Gaiden had said, no, it fit. It matched Makoto’s, went with it.

When he’d told Charlie that, he said his mother had gone really quiet for a long few moments before changing the subject, and Charlie hadn’t really understood why until years later and they’d had a real talk about it, and Gaiden had kind of explained it out longer. What a gaiden was, if you were into anime and videogames, that it was a side-story, a spin-off, of the real story, but its own thing, not a sequel or just a supplementary.

Gaiden then, shy and kinda soft, was very different to the Gaiden now: confident and soft-spoken but in a really smooth, charismatic way, and fucking slutty, too.

Charlie thinks there must be something in the water recently, making Gaiden even sluttier than usual — they’re nearly fucking thirty now, and the past year or two Gaiden’s just gotten hornier and hornier, always has guys fucking swarming him when they’re out, not to mention Grindr, and like —

It’s not like Charlie doesn’t hook-up, sure he does: he’s a man with a healthy sex drive, but he doesn’t the way that Gaiden does, and it’s… It’s not like they’re together. Him and Gaiden have never been together, haven’t: they’re… comfortable. They’re close, they’re intimate, yeah. Charlie was there when Gaiden got his top surgery, worked with him through it; Gaiden went with Charlie after his fucking car crash, worked with him through the physio, always stuck with him.

But they’re not…

“Fuck’s sake,” mutters Charlie, hearing the door slam. It’s four-thirty-two.

He gets to his feet, and he doesn’t knock, just shoves Gaiden’s door open to bark at him to get in the fucking shower already so that they’re not late meeting Keen and Frankie, and his breath catches in his throat, because Gaiden is sprawled on the bed, unmoving.

There are a bunch of pillows stacked underneath his hips, putting his ass in the air, and he’s wearing nothing except one of Charlie’s black hoodies that’s ruched up under his shoulders. Charlie can’t see his face, what with the way Gaiden’s collapsed with his face mashed into his arms, his legs spread wide and his cunt bright pink and open, frothing white cum dripping out of him, his asshole wet and just a little open too.

Charlie’s gaze flits to the discarded anal plug and bottle of lube dropped aside, and when it goes back to Gaiden’s open pussy, completely hairless because he’s fucking obsessive about that shit and honestly not that hairy to begin with, he watches spellbound as a thick droplet of cum drips out of him, goes down and clings to the tip of Gaiden’s stiff little dick before dripping down onto the bed, where there’s a fucking wet patch underneath him.

“Bro,” he says, barely hearing his own voice over the roar in his ears, because he’s never seen Gaiden’s pussy like this, has never seen it fucked open and used like this, so fucking juicy it looks like if you just grabbed and squeezed he’d squirt, and fuck, but Charlie wants to.

He craves it, craves to reach out and grab hold of him, grab his outer lips and squeeze, roll Gaiden’s cock between his thumb and forefingers and feel him twitch, hear him let out those eager little whines, make him keen.

Make him beg for it.

“We’re leaving at five,” he says. He can’t breathe. His mouth is dry, and he’s thinking about how he could stuff three fingers in one of Gaiden’s holes and three in the other, fuck him with both at once. They’ve never even fucking kissed, because it’s not right, wouldn’t be right, because they’re fucking friends, they’re not —

Gaiden raises his head and turns to look back at Charlie with his eyes half-lidded, like he’s struggling to stay awake right now, which Charlie isn’t fucking surprised by, with that kind of exercise.

“We have time,” says Gaiden, and then he spreads his legs further apart.

“Fuck me,” Charlie mumbles, not even really planning to say anything but not able to hold it back, because when Gaiden raises one of his legs and pushes his thighs farther apart, he clenches his keyhole muscles at the same time, and Charlie can see it, see the pink shining feast of well-fucked cunt in front of him, see the little wink of his asshole, see the glossy white sheen of cum in and around his pussy, a little more of it dripping down his thighs.

Gaiden’s lips shift into the slightest of smirks, his head tilting. “Gonna do it this time, Charlie?” he asks. He doesn’t whisper anymore. His voice is pitched low and it’s quiet, but his intonation is clear and crisp — Gaiden’s got a nice voice, smooth.

“Do what?”

“Mark your territory.” Gaiden rests his chin on his palm, looking back at him, unmoving, his legs staying spread apart. “Every guy I bring home, you just get angrier and angrier. Like somebody’s touching your things.”

“You’re not one of my fucking things,” says Charlie.

“You want me to be?” Gaiden’s eyebrows raise, his head tipping slightly to one side. His cock twitches as he clenches around air.

It’s four-forty-five. Charlie’s head feels like it’s spinning, feels full of cotton wool and throbbing and his skin is so hot, his cock hard in his fucking jeans, and he strides forward, puts one hand out.

His palm collides with Gaiden’s open pussy in a stinging slap that resounds in the room like a thunderclap, and Gaiden howls, his eyes clenching shut and his hands grasping at the sheets; paradoxically, his legs spread wider, his ass tipping up into the air in a silent invitation for more.

Charlie can’t fucking resist it, feels like he has to be dreaming, feels like they have to have some kind of fucking discussion about this, but for now he shoves his index finger into Gaiden’s ass and his other three fingers into his pussy, makes Gaiden whine and shudder underneath him as he sinks as deep as he can and feels him stretch. He’s so much wetter than Charlie could have imagined from both ends, so much wetter, so much fucking smoother, and Charlie has to concentrate as he focuses on grabbing the back of Gaiden’s hoodie — Hell, of his own hoodie — and pulling him back by it.

Gaiden moans, grinding back clumsily onto Charlie’s fingers as he slides back from the pillows, and then yelps as he’s pulled off the mattress and made to put all of his weight onto Charlie’s hand, and fuck, but his fingers go in so easy. He could probably fist Gaiden, and Gaiden, whatever fucking mood he’s in right now, he’d probably let him, and —

No.

Charlie pulls his fingers out, and Gaiden whines.

“Charlie, fuck’s sake,” he hisses, “you’re finally fucking doing it, just do — ” He cuts himself off, choking out a sound as Charlie brings his hand up against his cunt with another hollow slapping sound, making his whole body jump.

“Get in the fucking shower,” says Charlie. “You have fourteen minutes.”

“But I — ”

Charlie squeezes, and Gaiden’s knees go weak.

Gaiden’s not a skinny guy, but the fattest part of him is undoubtedly this cunt, and he moans as he goes soft and loose and liquid, dropping back against Charlie’s chest.

“Get in the fucking shower,” Charlie growls in his ear, cock so hard he can barely concentrate, “and maybe I won’t spank this slutty cunt until it bleeds.”

Gaiden gulps. “Fuck,” he whispers, and he sounds so turned on that Charlie can’t actually compute it, can’t digest it, does he really fucking want this? Has this whole fucking thing been just to…?

Gaiden stumbles off of Charlie’s hand, and less than a minute later the shower is running — Charlie stares down at his fingers, soaked wet and juicy, his whole hand a mess of wetness, lube, cum.

He washes it in the other bathroom, so temptation doesn’t beckon, and they get out of the house on time.

“We gonna talk about it?” asks Charlie from the driver’s seat.

“Do you want me or not?” retorts Gaiden.

“You want me to fuck you, you don’t get it by making us late for our fucking appointments,” says Charlie, which is an insane thing to say, and an even more insane thing to mean, which he’s pretty sure he does.

“Seems like it worked pretty well on my end,” says Gaiden, looking out of the window.

Charlie’s cock is hard. He’s not going to be able to fucking bowl — he’s gonna be shitty all night, isn’t going to be able to pick up a bowling ball without thinking of how easily his fingers slid inside Gaiden’s perfect fucking holes.

“You have a massage wand, right?”

Gaiden glances at him, frowning slightly. He’s wearing Charlie’s hoodie over his jeans and t-shirt, the hoodie he just got fucked in, the hoodie that still smells like sweat and sex, however faintly, however sensitive Charlie is to it right now.

“Yeah,” says Gaiden.

“When we get home, you’re sitting on my cock, and I’m putting that toy on yours,” says Charlie. “I’m not gonna take it off until you cry.”

A dusky pink is coming into Gaiden’s cheeks, his eyes wide, his mouth opening, closing. “I,” he starts, “I don — ”

“You fucking asked for it,” says Charlie. “You’re fucking getting it.”

Gaiden swallows, stares forward. Laughs — giggles — in a kind of abortive, breathless way, and Charlie’s heart skips a beat at the sound of it. “Okay, Charlie,” says Gaiden. “Let’s do that.”

Fuck.

(Gaiden bowls a perfect game.

Of course he fucking does.)