This story was also posted elsewhere on internet.
(All characters are older than 18 years.)
.
.
It was all weird, the order in which the stuff between us - me and my roomie - happened. It hadn't been the inexplicable attraction, or staring at each other's cock, or stuff like that. First came the cuddling.
Since we started college, two years now, Fabricio and I had lived together, and have been close friends. We went to the same places, with the same circle of people, shared a lot of tastes, and had the same political views.
When we met, Fabricio had short hair. Two years later, his hair was all curly and wavy, and I joked around with him, of course, and never let an opportunity pass, during that time, of messing up his hair; I was really annoying.
That's how it started.
At one time, the day before an important exam, when Fabricio was intently reading his textbooks, his left hand taking notes skillfully with a pen, and because I was bored to death and decided to annoy him in return; I slowly approached him and started to rub my fingers on his head, through his wavy hair, a careful movement so as to prevent any mistakes in his note-taking.
I expected the usual remarks telling me to go screw myself and to leave him alone, but he ignored me, and kept ignoring me; my hand gently scratching his temple, behind his ears; his head would softly turn this way and that way but he wouldn't complain. I didn't want to give up, but it lasted so long that I kind of had to. I slapped his shoulder, trying to put the weirdness aside, but it didn't work. Fabricio kept studying, and I started to move away, when I heard him say: "Thanks, man."
"Yeah, sure." That was my response.
After a few hours, I already had convinced myself that nothing weird had happened, and Fabricio had been too focused on his studies to notice me.
But it kept coming back to me that I had spent an awful lot of time caressing him.
I was scared to do it again for a while, and, even though we never mentioned the sudden lack of that annoying habit, I didn't come close to Fabricio when he was studying, until that day on the couch.
I had been laying down on the couch first, watching television, and Fabricio joined me later, sitting on the ground, by the couch; his head was very close to my hand, I noticed. He opened a textbook and started reading silently. It was such an opportunity that it would been even weirder if I didn't try to annoy him, even if a gut feeling told me that Fabricio had just made a trap for me.
First, I brushed a finger on his head, and he gave me a - what? - look. I smiled, he smiled back, and turned back to his book. I touched his hair, rubbed my fingers against the back of his ear, circling the small area, for a few minutes. I stopped then, because it was too weird, but quickly returned, softly scratching his head, it moved, but he didn't complain; by that point, I was creeped out but didn't stop, carried away by the powerful intimacy of the moment. We were interrupted by a knock on our door, and Fabricio answered it; I had to put a pillow on top of my crotch to hide the beginning of an obsession.
And obsession it was. Fabricio didn't need to be studying anymore. All that was needed was both of us together and alone, and it happened on the couch many times, I was usually watching television when Fabricio came, sat down on the ground, and we started touching each other. Once he massaged my foot that was hanging off, carefully putting pressure on each toe, going to the ankle and back, and in return, I massaged his neck.